The Dark Lord Exposed
by Hplover4ever3
Summary: !COMPLETE! The story of Lord Voldemort's life, from the moment he becomes a wizard to the moment he dies. Everything—Slug Club, Horcruxes, Chamber of Secrets, Death Eaters, working at Borgin's, both wars, banishment, resurrection. With details of what happened in Albania. Names and dates are all canon. Gets significantly darker as the story progresses.
1. Wool's Orphanage

**Author's note: Hey there! Thanks for clicking this story! I really hope you enjoy it.**

**I wrote this story as a sort of self-fulfillment. I grew up with Harry Potter and I always wished I could see how Voldemort went through it all, through his eyes and his judgment. So since I couldn't find any good fics out there that portrayed his entire life story from beginning to end, I thought, why the hell not? **

**This story is currently being translated into German on the German fanfiction website. The author will be 'The Dark Lord' so if any of your Germans out there are interested, special thanks goes to GermanGirl. **

**I personally don't think this is my best work but it is the first story I have completed fully on the website and I'm quite proud of it, so I do hope you enjoy it and please leave your comments below :) **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling. ****I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

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**CHAPTER 1: WOOL'S ORPHANAGE**

Home. What a pathetic excuse for a home. How _could_ she have left him there? He still did not know.

Tom sat by the window in his room and stared out at the deserted street, thinking of his worthless mother. It was a rainy day. Wasn't it always? He sat, thinking hard. Any minute now, Mrs. Cole would come to interrogate him regarding Billy's rabbit. He already had an alibi in mind. He'd rehearsed it in his head all night long. There was absolutely no evidence of his having been responsible for what had happened to that poor, innocent soul. And he knew perfectly well that Billy would keep quiet. He certainly did not want a repeat of what had happened in the cave.

He could hear her now. The clicking of Mrs. Cole's heels on the stairs. She stopped at his door, no doubt thinking of what to say. How to approach him. She would obviously begin kind and polite, then would grow unhappy with his answer and become angry.

The door slowly creaked open. Mrs. Cole stood there, staring at Tom, looking frightened and perplexed.

"Hi there," he said to her, casually. "How do you do?"

"I…" she seemed to struggle with what to say. "Well…Billy's rabbit was discovered hanged this morning."

"Oh no," said Tom, mocking concern.

"Yes, it's terrible," said Mrs. Cole, narrowing her eyes at him. "Do you know anything about this, Tom?"

"No," said Tom, in the most innocent voice he could manage. "How did it happen?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that, Tom," said Mrs. Cole, stepping into the room, though leaving the door open.

"I haven't a clue," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"Yes, well," said Mrs. Cole. "I happen to know for a fact that you had an argument with Billy yesterday. He told me all about it."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her.

"Did he, now?"

Mrs. Cole stared at him, frightfully.

"I forced it out of him," she said, in a tone more like a question.

"I'm sure you tried," said Tom, coolly.

Mrs. Cole stared at him for a long time. He expected her to ask him where he'd been when the incident occurred. Instead, she turned away and closed the door behind her, leaving Tom to his thoughts.

So the sneaky rat had told on him. He had to admit, he'd expected better. No matter, though. He would have a talk with him just as soon as he could get him on his own.

It wouldn't be the first time that he frightened Billy. Just the month before, when they had been taken out onto the seaside for what Mrs. Cole liked to call "a bit of fresh air", Tom had lured Billy and a few of the others into a cave. There, he had demonstrated some of his abilities to them. It was all good fun, of course. He knew none of the others could make objects float in the air. But his most prized ability—speaking to snakes—was the one that had _really_ frightened them. At first, they'd thought he was simply playing. But when the large snake started to hiss back to him, the others fell quickly silent.

Tom always knew he was different. He had discovered his abilities at the age of 6, when he had been angry one day and caused a vase to explode by itself. He never told Mrs. Cole or anybody else about this. Though, Mrs. Cole seemed to sense his difference and tried multiple times to bring in a doctor to look at him. He'd only let a few of the other children glimpse his abilities, and even that was only for the purposes of scaring them. They weren't very pleasant children anyway, and so Tom felt it was his duty to teach them little lessons.

But even now, at 11 years old, he still didn't know exactly what it was that gave him this difference. All he knew about himself was that his mother had dropped him off at the orphanage when he was just born, and had told Mrs. Cole that his name was to be Tom Riddle, after his father, and Marvolo for his middle name, after _her_ father. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He didn't want to be "after" anybody. He was far too special and different for that.

The rest of that summer was pretty dull. Tom laid low for a while, not wanting to push his chances. But he had managed to silence Billy for good. He wasn't exactly sure how he did it, but if he was facing him and he thought it and concentrated real hard, he always managed to inflict some pain in Billy. That was always amusing to watch.

His biggest surprise yet, occurred on an ordinary August afternoon. He had been sitting in his usual spot by the window in his room, wondering what he would do with his powers a few years from now when he'd run away, when the door swung open. There stood Mrs. Cole, looking perplexed as usual, though admittedly, a little drunk. And beside her, stood an old man. He had on a suit which was half hidden under his long white beard. He eyed Tom carefully from behind his half-moon spectacles, and then gave him a big smile.

"Tom, you have a visitor," said Mrs. Cole, nervously. "He's come here to tell you…well, I'll let him do it."


	2. The Professor

**Author's Note: Dear readers, you will find that this chapter is extremely similar to that of the scene in the book "Half Blood Prince". I have copied it for the purposes of staying true to the story, however I have written it solely from Tom's perspective, with his thoughts included. I assure you that this is one of the rare occasions that this will occur. The next chapter, which I will publish as soon as I can, will be titled "Knockturn Alley" and will be solely from my imagination. Enjoy, and happy reading! **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_"...Tom, you have a visitor," said Mrs. Cole, nervously. "He's come here to tell you…well, I'll let him do it..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 2: THE PROFESSOR**

"How do you do, Tom?" said the old man as he stepped forwards, holding out his hand.

Mrs. Cole closed the door on them. They were alone. Hesitating slightly, Tom took his hand and shook it. The man drew up the hard wooden chair beside him and sat down, so that the two of them looked almost like a doctor and a patient.

"I am Professor Dumbledore."

"Professor?" Tom repeated, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Is that like 'doctor'?"

The man stared at him.

"What are you here for?" Tom demanded. "Did _she _get you in to have a look at me?"

He could feel his anger rising now. Oh, how he _longed_ to perform the pain poor Billy had suffered on Mrs. Cole too. She just would not leave him alone.

"No, no," said the professor, smiling.

"I don't believe you," said Tom. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she?"

The professor waited.

"Tell the truth!" Tom demanded, growing impatient.

The professor continued to smile at him, ignoring his obviously rude tone. This made Tom frown. Exactly what was he smiling about? Why was he so…peculiar?

"Who are you?" he finally asked.

"I have told you," said the professor. "I am Professor Dumbledore, and I teach at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at this school, and—"

Tom jumped to his feet.

"I knew it!" he cried. "I knew it! I knew it! You _are_ the doctor, aren't you? You're from the asylum! You can't trick me. _Professor_, yes of course. Well, I'm not going! That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them. They'll tell you!"

"I'm not from the asylum," said the professor, calmly. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you—"

"I'd like to see them try," Tom sneered, fury still hot in his chest.

"Hogwarts," the professor went on, ignoring him, "is a school for people with special abilities—"

"I'm not mad!" Tom interjected. "Honestly, I'm not!"

"Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school…a school of magic."

There was silence. Tom had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of the professor's. He was sure that if he looked carefully, he would catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in barely more than a whisper.

He'd never thought of it like that before.

"That's right," said the professor.

"It's…it's _magic_, what I can do?"

"And what is it that you can do?"

"All sorts of things," Tom breathed.

A flush of excitement was rising up his neck and into his hollow cheeks.

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed.

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I _knew_ I was special. Always, I knew there was _something_."

"Well, you were quite right," said the professor who, when Tom looked up, he noticed was no longer smiling, but rather watching him intently.

"You are a wizard."

Tom stared at him. There was a wild happiness forming inside him now…one he had never felt before.

"Are you a wizard too?" he asked the professor, narrowing his eyes at him once more.

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," said Tom at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said "Tell the truth".

The professor raised his eyebrows at him.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your invitation to attend Hogwarts—"

"Of course I am!"

"—Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir',"

Tom glared at him for a moment, and then his expression softened. He would have to put on a little show if he wanted more information out of this one. Though, he was liking him lesser by the minute.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant—please, professor, could you show me?"

At this, the professor drew out what looked to be a long stick from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the stick a casual flick.

The wardrobe burst into flames.

Tom jumped to his feet. WHAT WAS THIS MAN DOING?! ALL OF HIS THINGS WERE IN THERE! HIS CLOTHES, THE MANY OBJECTS HE'D CONFISCATED FROM THE OTHER CHILDREN…EVERYTHING!

He turned and rounded on the professor, but at that moment, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Tom stared at it, then back at the professor. He pointed at the stick.

"Where can I get one of them?"

It would be most useful. He'd managed to do loads of magic thus far without it. He could just imagine how much more he'd be able to do _with_ it.

"All in good time," said the professor, frowning at the wardrobe. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe, Tom."

And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. Tom turned around, looking frightened. His heart started to pound hard against his chest, sweat coming down from his forehead. He wouldn't, would he?

"Open the door," said the professor, confirming Tom's fears.

Tom hesitated. Then, not seeing any way that he could get out of this, he crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. On the topmost shelf, above a rail of threadbare clothes, the small cardboard box in which he had hidden his most prized possessions was shaking and rattling as though there were several frantic mice trapped inside it.

"Take it out," the professor instructed.

Feeling unnerved, Tom took out the quaking box.

"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked the professor, calmly.

Tom eyed him carefully, trying to analyze him…trying to predict what would be his reaction to the truth.

"Yes," he finally said, slowly. "I suppose so, _sir_."

"Open it," said the professor.

Hesitating slightly, Tom took off the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed, never turning his gaze from the professor. The yo-yo, silver thimble, and tarnished mouth organ had stopped quivering and lay quite still upon the thin blankets.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said the professor, calmly, putting the magical stick back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: thievery will not be tolerated at Hogwarts."

Tom's expression did not change. He was still staring coldly and appraisingly at the professor. Who did he think he was, coming here and commanding him? Still, Tom thought it best not to argue at that moment.

"Yes, sir," he finally said, in a somewhat colorless voice.

"Good," said the professor. "Now, at Hogwarts, you will not only learn how to use magic, but how to control it. You have—inadvertently, I am sure—been using your powers thus far in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic—yes, there is a ministry—will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir," Tom repeated, but he was only half listening.

A ministry of magic. That must mean a government. A leadership organization. He could already see himself sitting on the highest chair, with people everywhere bowing down to him. Not keen on the professor discovering these thoughts, he made a blank face and put the little cache of stolen objects back into the cardboard box. Then, he turned to the professor once more and bit his lip.

"I…haven't got any money…to buy things like…like…that," he pointed at the professor's pocket, where he had placed the magical stick only moments ago.

"That is easily remedied," said the professor, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket and handing it to Tom. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes and wands. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but—"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" Tom interrupted, now examining a fat gold coin which he withdrew from the pouch. It looked most peculiar.

"In Diagon Alley," said the professor, causing Tom to look up at him. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything—"

"You're coming with me?" Tom interrupted, looking up at him.

The idea was revolting to him. He didn't want to go anywhere with _this _man. He was too set by the rules, and Tom disliked the way he watched him…he had too much accusation in those clear blue eyes.

"Certainly, if you—"

"I don't need you," Tom added. "I'm used to doing things for myself…I go round London on my own all the time." It was a lie, of course, but the professor had no way of finding out. "How do you get to this Diagon Alley—_sir_?" he added, catching the professor's eye.

The professor stared at him for a moment, surprised, then handed him an envelope which contained his list of equipment. He then orally gave him detailed instructions as to how to get to a place called The Leaky Cauldron.

"_You_ will be able to see it, although muggles around you—non-magical people, that is—will not. Ask for Tom the barman—easy enough to remember, as he shares your name—"

Tom gave an irritable twitch, which unfortunately, the professor caught.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," he muttered.

At age 11, he had already played around with a few words in trying to come up with a new name for himself, but nothing yet had sparked his attention. Still, he did not give up. He could not wait to be rid of his father's name. A sudden thought dawned upon him and he glanced up at the professor, hesitating before asking,

"Was my father a wizard?"

Again, the professor stared at him. He could not read his expression…could not tell what he was thinking. But that didn't matter to him now.

"He was called Tom Riddle too," he added. "They've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know," said the professor, quietly.

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," said Tom, to no one in particular. "It must've been him. So anyway, when I've got all my stuff, when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," said the professor. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Tom nodded in comprehension. Smiling, the professor got to his feet and held out his hand again. Tom shook it. The professor turned to leave, when Tom suddenly stopped him.

"Will _she_ let me go? Did you tell her?"

"If you mean _Mrs. Cole_," said the professor, now a little agitated, "Then yes, I have informed her that you will be departing on the first of September. Now, just to clarify, you will have to return for the summer holidays every year, but other than that, I think I have told you everything."

"For how many years will I be at Hogwarts?"

"Seven," answered the Professor. He turned to leave.

"WAIT," called Tom. "I can speak to snakes too. They find me…whisper to me. Is that... n-normal for a wizard?"

The professor turned and stared at him for a long time. Tom tried to read his expression but again failed. It was maddening. Finally, the professor let out a small smile.

"It is unusual, yes, but not unheard of."

Tom nodded again.

"Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

And with that, the professor walked out of the room, closing the door on the now beaming Tom.


	3. Knockturn Alley

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_"...Goodbye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."_

_And with that, the professor walked out of the room, closing the door on the now beaming Tom..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 3: KNOCKTURN ALLEY**

Tom strolled down the street, too overwhelmed to speak. It was nothing like he'd ever imagined. The colourful street was absolutely littered with shops of the most peculiarity he'd ever witnessed. A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop, with a sign saying _Eeylops Owl Emporium_. Several boys of about Tom's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. The other people in the street looked to be all wearing long robes that flowed as they walked. Tom beamed.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling silver instruments Tom had never seen before, shops selling bats and cauldrons, and shops selling—

"Wands," Tom told himself, smiling softly.

His eyes lingered for a moment over the sign on the shabby-looking shop, with the golden letters that read _Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C_. Without hesitation, he let himself in and looked around. The shop was packed with bookcases upon bookcases that held long, thin boxes. There was not an inch of space in the shop that didn't have a box. The air was old and dusty. He coughed slightly, and called out in a demanding voice, "Hello!"

An old man emerged from the shadowy corridor and beamed at Tom. His robes were extremely shabby and his face lined with age. His hair was ruffled and gray, and his smile revealed uncared-for teeth.

"Hello, dear boy," he said, smiling at Tom, who did not smile back.

"I need to buy a wand," he simply told him, setting his money pouch on the table. "A good wand."

"Ahh, first year then, yes?"

Tom slowly nodded, eyeing the wizard carefully.

"Alright then," said the wizard, and he began to rummage around the shelves. "Let's see…. How about this one?"

He barely had time to remove the wand from its box when Tom said, in a very clear voice,

"Look again."

The wizard stopped in his tracks and eyed him carefully.

"Why, are you sure you don't want to at least try it?"

"Look again," Tom repeated, enunciating the words more this time.

The wizard nodded and returned to his shelf.

"Look in the back," Tom instructed him. "Go into your rare collections. I'm sure you have them."

The wizard turned round to stare at him and was silent for a long time.

"What is your name?"

"Why do you want my name?" asked Tom, narrowing his eyes at the wizard.

"My dear boy, the wand chooses the wizard."

"Does it?" said Tom, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," said the wizard. "That has always been known to us who've studied wand law."

Tom looked around the shop and then his eyes landed on a box in the corner of one of the shelves.

"That one," he said, pointing at it.

The wizard eyed it carefully, then looked at Tom again, narrowing his eyes.

"Why don't you let me try to-"

"That one," Tom repeated, still pointing.

The wizard hesitated slightly, and then went to retrieve the box. He handed the wand to Tom and as soon as Tom touched it, a sort of tingling, vibrating sensation occurred. He smiled at the look on the wizard's face.

"That's yew wood," said the wizard. "13 ½", with a phoenix feather."

Tom ran his fingers smoothly down the wand, holding it as delicately as possible, then turned to the wizard.

"How much?"

* * *

After _Ollivander's_, Tom went ahead to _Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ and got fitted for Hogwarts robes. After that, he stopped by _Flourish &amp; Blotts_ and got all his school books.

"Hogwarts, yes?" said the wizard behind the counter.

Tom nodded.

The wizard rose his eyebrows as he eyed the coins that Tom gave him, and then gave him a small smile.

"My dear boy," he said, kindly. "You do not have nearly enough here to buy all of these books."

Tom stared at him.

"But," said the wizard, walking around the counter and leading Tom to the corner of the shop. "Here, we have all of our second-hand books...donated of course, by previous Hogwarts students. Why don't you look through them and see if you can find the ones you need?"

After _Flourish &amp; Blotts_, Tom stopped by _Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment_ and got all his scales and telescopes and cauldrons, second-hand, like the books. As he walked along the colourful streets, he eyed the passer-byers carefully. There were students about his age who hopped around their parents excitedly. All of the grown wizards had on robes and some even had pointed hats.

"Excuse me, boy," said a voice behind him. He turned around.

A plump, old little witch was smiling down at him and holding out an ice cream cone.

"One triple chocolate, yes?"

Tom looked at the shop behind her. It was called _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour_.

"This is what you ordered, yes?" repeated the witch, still smiling.

Tom took the cone and nodded once at her, then took a seat at one of the little tables outside the shop.

As he ate, he eyed the people walking along the street. He thought that, if he looked carefully, he could sense which of them knew what they were doing and which were completely lost. It was rather peculiar to see such a wide range of different wizards. Then, Tom noticed something else. Just in between _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ and another shop called _The Magical Menagerie_, was a dark alleyway. Picking up all his bags, he made his way to the alley to explore. There was a sign that read _Knockturn Alley_, with an arrow pointing left. Tom followed it.

As he descended further into the alley, it got increasingly darker. The first shop that he spotted was called _Dystyl Phaelanges_. There appeared to be bones for sale as he pressed his nose against the window and squinted his eyes. The next shop was even more gruesome: _The Coffin House_. The sign at the very front said that this shop mainly sold Dark Arts materials used to raise the dead.

"Dark Arts," Tom whispered to himself.

The term was quite fascinating to him. He made a mental note that he would ask someone about it when he got to school.

The third shop on the left however, caught his attention right away..._Borgin and Burkes_. The shop door opened with the ring of a bell and an excited wizard came out, holding several black packages. He eyed Tom carefully, then held the door open for him. Tom entered the shop.

It was extremely dark as only a fit candles were lit in the back corner. A scrawny, hunch-backed wizard sat behind the counter, muttering to himself. Tom examined the shelves. There were shrunken heads for sale, as well as giant black spiders, human fingernails, skulls, leering masks, and cursed necklaces. Tom's eyes gleamed as he examined the objects. There were all sorts of magic, then. The Professor hadn't mentioned anything about Dark Arts.

"Can I help you, boy?" the scrawny wizard from the counter said.

Tom turned around to look at him. He knew he didn't have a single galleon left and could not make a purchase, but this shop fascinated him so much, that he would work hard to be able to come back.

"One day, perhaps," he said to the wizard, before turning around to leave.

* * *

Tom had to work real hard to hide his purchases from Mrs. Cole when he got back. But, once they were safe in his room, he opened up all his bags and examined the contents. He spent the next few weeks reading. A lot. He did nothing but read. Torturing Billy and the other kids was of no interest to him anymore. He read _A_ _History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot from cover to cover. He skimmed through most of _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling but what interested him most of all was _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble. He read that too from cover to cover and even reread it a couple of times. It was such fascinating information, he could hardly wait to see what the class itself would be like.

From what he gathered in his readings, there were three types of wizards... those who were born into completely magical families, those who had partially magical families, and those who did not have any magical history at all. Tom automatically assumed that he fell under the partially magical category, as his mother couldn't possibly have been magical. Otherwise, she would not have died. Then again, there was so much he still didn't know about the wizarding world, so he spent the rest of the summer reading about it. After all, knowledge was power.

The First of September came very soon, and Tom was relieved to leave the orphanage behind and go ahead to King's Cross Station alone. Once there, he looked around curiously for Platform 9 3/4, then quickly spotted a few wizards running into a wall in between platforms 9 and 10, and assumed the position to do the same. He ran at the wall and crossed a barrier onto platform 9 3/4. Once there, he spotted the Hogwarts Express, which was a gleaming scarlet steam engine. Wizards everywhere were helping their children onto the train or putting their trunks on crates. Tom managed to do both by himself, and quickly found a train compartment all to himself.

He spent the first hour of the train journey staring out the window at the change of sceneries, when suddenly the compartment door slid open and a boy walked through.

"Hi," he said to Tom, smiling.

"Hello," said Tom, coolly.

"Is it okay if I sit down?" asked the boy.

"Are there no more seats?" Tom asked, without looking at him.

"Well," the boy hesitated. "I just thought we could...be friends."

"I don't need any friends," said Tom.

He then eyed the boy carefully. The boy had long dark hair and rather hungry eyes. He didn't look anything like Billy or any of the other little boys back at the orphanage. In fact, this boy looked very mysterious. He most certainly did not wish to be friends with him, but it couldn't hurt to get some information out of him, as Tom was still very new to this world.

"Fine then," he said, just as the boy turned to leave. "Sit."

The boy sat.

"What is your name?" Tom asked him.

"Avery," said the boy.

"I am Tom," said Tom.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?" Avery asked him.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"House?"

"Yeah, there's four houses. You don't know?"

Tom watched the boy carefully.

"Hogwarts was founded by four wizards over a thousand years ago. They each have a house and the Sorting Ceremony at the start of your first year determines which house you'll be in."

"What are the houses?" asked Tom.

"Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin," said Avery.

"How are they different?" Tom asked.

"Hufflepuffs are supposed to be hard workers, Ravenclaws are smart, Gryffindors are brave, and Slytherins are clever."

"What if you are all four?" asked Tom.

"You could be, but normally the Sorting Hat puts you in the one that you show the most," said Avery.

"Where are you headed then?" said Tom.

"Slytherin, for sure," said Avery. "My whole family has been in Slytheirn."

"Your family are all wizards?" said Tom.

"Yeah, we're pureblood."

"Pureblood? What is pureblood?"

Avery frowned.

"You are a pureblood if you come from a wizard family. If one of your parents is a wizard and the other is a muggle, that makes you a half-blood. And then there are those few odd ones that are born into completely muggle families that have no trace of magical blood in them..."

"Mudbloods," said Tom, coolly.

"Yeah," said Avery, narrowing his eyes at him. "Say, where are you from?"

But before Tom could answer, the compartment door opened again and a lady with a food trolley offered them sweets.


	4. The Sorting Ceremony

**Author's Note: Unfortunately there aren't many records of the names of the people that Tom Riddle went to school with. All we know is that there was an Avery and a Lestrange but we don't know their full names. Therefore, as you will notice, I have made up full names for them for the purposes of this story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, but am simply having fun with my imagination. **

**Next chapter update will be either tomorrow or the day after. The chapter will be called "Defense Against the Dark Arts". **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_...But before Tom could answer, the compartment door opened again and a lady with a food trolley offered them sweets..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: THE SORTING CEREMONY**

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was nothing like Tom could have possibly imagined it would be. It was a grand castle which stood tall with its many towers overlooking a large lake and an even larger forest. Coming off the train with Avery, Tom joined the other first years in sailing across the lake to the castle in small boats. They were led through the Entrance Hall into a large room called the Great Hall, wherein four long tables seated hundreds of students in pointed black hats. Tom followed his fellow classmates to the front of the hall and stopped before a long table where the teachers sat. Looking around, Tom quickly spotted Professor Dumbledore, who nodded once in his direction.

"Gather round here, please!" called the witch who had led them. "Now, when I call your name, you will sit on this stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head."

The students around Tom shifted uncomfortably, all of them nervous. Tom simply stared at the shabby-old wizard's hat that was on the stool. He had no idea which house he wanted to be in. From what Avery told him, he had characteristics from each of the houses. But perhaps, the hat knew more.

"Avery, Atticus!"

Avery stepped up to the stool and the witch put the hat on him.

"SLYTHERIN!" it bellowed after a few seconds.

The students at the table on the far left broke into applause and cheers.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" cried the hat as the next boy took his seat.

The next 4 people were Ravenclaws, then came a few Gryffindors, and two more Slytherins. As the list went on, Tom looked around the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands of floating candles and the ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky. The teachers at the staff table all looked very sophisticated and important. Professor Dumbledore however, was still eyeing Tom, which Tom was very well aware of. He ignored this.

"Lestrange, Rufus!" called the witch.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat bellowed.

"Riddle, Tom!"

Tom moved up to the stool, disregarding the fact that Professor Dumbledore just sat up, fully alert. He sat and the witch placed the hat on his head, covering his eyes.

"Hmmm…. Riddle," said the hat in his ears. Tom knew no one else could hear what the hat was saying to him as he couldn't hear what it had said to any of the other students.

"I haven't seen that name before," the hat continued. "But you do have magical blood. And a hunger for power. And… Oh! Why, this is very interesting! Hmm… yes, there's no mistaking it. How very nice to meet you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. I'll put you in your rightful house. SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table exploded with cheers as they had already gotten 12 new Slytherins. Tom sat at the table, avoiding Professor Dumbledore's eyes (which he was sure were still on him), and waited for the sorting ceremony to end.

The wizard at the head of the staff table rose to his feet afterwards, introduced himself as Headmaster Dippet, and beckoned the hall to enjoy their dinner. Then, a glorious feast appeared at each of the tables. More food than Tom had ever seen. He began to eat while listening to the many conversations that were going on around him.

"Where is our common room?" one of the boys asked an older boy.

"In the dungeons," he answered. "I'm a prefect so it'll be my job to take you all there."

"Prefect?" Tom asked. "What's that?"

"A student leader," said the boy. "If you exhibit quality characteristics and your academics are good, you can become a prefect in your fifth year."

Tom said nothing for the rest of the evening.

After the feast, the boy called all the first-year Slytherins to follow him to the dungeons. They walked along the castle corridors, looking around excitedly. Tom merely eyed the halls with fascination, but continued to keep silent. He did not want to make friends here. He wanted to learn about Dark Arts. Ever since he'd read that book back in the orphanage, he'd become somewhat obsessed with the Dark Arts. They were extremely fascinating to him.

"Password?" asked the man in the portrait on the wall covering the dungeons.

The students whispered excitedly, "The portraits talk!" or "They can move!".

"Basilisk," said the prefect boy.

The portrait swung open and the students stepped through and gathered around.

The Slytherin Common Room was very large indeed and covered in green colours. There was a fireplace and several armchairs and couches and corner tables. There were lamps and carpets and all sorts of objects scattered about the room. There were also several statues of Snakes and of Slytherin himself.

"Green is our colour," the prefect boy told the boys. "And the serpent is our symbol. This is because our forefather, Salazar Slytherin, was a parselmouth. He could speak to snakes, which is a very rare gift."

Tom raised an eyebrow. The words rang in his ears, loud and clear. He could already feel that this was where he belonged. After all, he was very fond of snakes.

"The portrait passwords will change occasionally but they are easy to remember. Your class schedules will be handed out to you tomorrow at breakfast. That's when owl post usually arrives as well. Oh and I should warn you, the ghost that haunts our house is the Bloody Baron. If you find him pleasant, then there is something seriously wrong with you. But not to worry, he shares our beliefs here. Now, you should all go to bed for you need to wake up early tomorrow. Your things have been brought up for you."

Tom followed some of the boys to the dormitories and found his bed quickly. He changed out of his robes and crawled in. _A parselmouth_. He was a _parselmouth_. This meant that no one else in the school shared this gift with him. Was this why Professor Dumbledore had eyed him so suspiciously? He'd already heard another boy mention that Dumbledore was the head of Gryffindor house and had been in Gryffindor himself. And according to the prefect, Gryffindors were the absolute enemies of Slytherins.

But a _parselmouth_. What was it that the sorting hat had said? _Why, this is very interesting…hmm, yes, there's no mistaking it_. Was it possible that the hat could sense this connection that Tom had with Slytherin? Why _did_ he have this connection with him? He made a mental note to further investigate this later.

Tom stayed awake for most of the night, feeling very pleased that he shared this little secret with his forefather.


	5. Defense Against the Dark Arts

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...Tom stayed awake for most of the night, feeling very pleased that he shared this little secret with his forefather..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 5: DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS**

Tom awoke early the following morning and dressed before any of the other boys got up. His Slytherin robes made him feel very comfortable in his own skin as he climbed downstairs to the empty Common Room, carrying his book bag with him. He climbed out of the portrait hole and began to wander around the castle corridors. The bright oranges and yellows of dawn shone through the castle windows softly as Tom passed by them. He climbed up to the fourth floor and stopped by the trophy room, examining the various gleaming trophies in the glass cabinets.

Previous Hogwarts students had won all sorts of awards and Magical Merits. There were photographs of previous Quidditch teams holding cups in victory. There were photographs of prefects and head boys and girls, smiling and waving their badges with delight. Some had earned medals for special services to the school. Others had won best academic achievements awards. The records were endless.

Soon, Tom heard the footsteps and chatter of several students in the halls. The world was finally waking up. He exited the Trophy Room, and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As he ate, Tom watched the students from the other tables carefully. There was a group of Ravenclaws that were flipping frantically through pages in their books, looking perplexed. Over at the Hufflepuff table, a group of boys were roaring with laughter about something apparently amusing. The Gryffindors were mimicking brooms in the air and talking excitedly about flying strategies. Everyone at the Slytherin table however, were very excited about something called "the staring glass eye", which apparently was Borgin's newest item in stock.

"I'm going to get my hands on it as soon as I can," said the prefect boy from the day before.

After the owl post arrived, during which Tom received nothing (though it wasn't a surprise to him), the witch that had conducted the sorting hat ceremony came around and gave the students their timetables. Tom's indicated that he had Potions and Charms that morning, then lunch, then History of Magic and Transfiguration. Defense Against the Dark Arts was unfortunately scheduled for the next day. He would only have it three times a week.

Feeling slightly disappointed, Tom finished off his breakfast without a word to any of his neighbours. Just before the clock struck 9, Avery turned to him, having gotten bored with his conversation with Rufus Lestrange.

"Oy Tom, want to go to Potions together?"

"I'll see you there," said Tom without looking at him.

Avery took this as a hint to leave Tom alone, and did just that.

Before any of the students even finished their breakfast, Tom rose to his feet, carrying his book bag with him, and headed down to Potions. The door was open when he arrived there so he found a seat and took out his copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger. It was a while before the bell sounded and his classmates started to file into the classroom noisily. Once they settled down, the teacher walked in, muttering apologies about his lateness.

Potions was a rather dull subject that Tom found no interest in whatsoever. Though, that did not stop him from performing marvellously. He was the first to successfully brew a Forgetfulness Potion, having carefully read and analyzed the recipe for it back in the orphanage just a week before.

"Tis splendid!" cried Professor Slughorn as he whirled around to examine Tom's creation. "My dear boy, how on earth did you—very_, very nice_. 10 points to Slytherin!"

Tom's fellow classmates patted him on the back and cheered but he did not react. . . not even with a smile. He simply poured the contents of his creation into a vile and handed it to Professor Slughorn for grading. The Professor however, quickly waved it away.

"Nonsense boy," he said, smiling. "I don't need to examine it to see that it's perfect. Full marks!"

Tom had to admit to himself that though the subject was dull, it had been a good start to his academics. He made his way to Charms class alone, not needing to remind Avery twice to let him be. He would talk to him when he felt like it. But for now, he wanted to examine Hogwarts carefully, and everything that it had to offer.

The Charms teacher, a Professor Flitwick, was part-goblin and part-human. Tom made a disparaging noise when the little man came into the class and introduced himself as their Charms teacher. They couldn't possibly allow a man child to teach them, could they? However, as the lesson progressed, Professor Flitwick proved to be very knowledgeable on the subject. They did levitation charms which Tom found to be quite amusing. He also did considerably well in that class, and by the end of the lesson, Professor Flitwick was on a first-name basis with him.

At lunchtime, Tom allowed Avery to accompany him back to the Great Hall.

"It's really weird that a goblin is teaching us," Avery was saying.

"Yeah, but I've heard that he's some kind of duel god or whatever," said Lestrange, who had joined them at the Slytherin table.

Tom grabbed a knife and began to spread butter on his bread.

"He does seem to know his stuff," said Avery, taking a bite of an apple. "What did you think of him, Tom?"

Tom put the knife back and placed the square-shaped bread on his square-shaped plate, aligning it perfectly. He took his time doing this, and then he looked up at Avery.

"I thought he was fine," he answered, coolly.

The rest of the day was very long but Tom seemed to enjoy all of his classes and his performance was topnotch. He made excellent first impressions with his teachers, all of whom now knew him by his first name. History of Magic was fascinating indeed. It was taught by a ghost who went by the name of Professor Binns. He spent a great portion of the lesson discussing the four founders of Hogwarts: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. According to him, they had been the greatest wizards and witches of their time. They had created the school together and then shortly after, Slytherin had departed, having argued with the other three about who should attend the school.

"Of course, you can see the mistake that Slytherin made," said Professor Binns. "He wanted only magical families to be able to attend the school but we see that today as a mistake for we have had many students over the last century who had been half-bloods or muggle-born and excelled at magic, way beyond many purebloods."

Tom jotted down every word that Professor Binns uttered, though he did not necessarily agree. To him, the idea of permitting someone who did not have any magical blood in their family to study magic, was sort of ridiculous. But then again, he _was _new to the wizarding world, so he spared himself the humiliation of trying to voice these thoughts and nodded along throughout the lesson.

Transfiguration was another excellent subject. Though it was taught by Professor Dumbledore, Tom seemed to enjoy it. They spent the whole of class practicing the Avifors Spell, which was meant to transform small objects into birds. Tom was becoming increasingly pleased with his success. Though, his heart sank when he headed back to the Slytherin Common Room that evening. He had really looked forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and would have to wait until the following day at noon.

He finished all of his homework quickly that night, rejected Avery's invitation to play a game of Exploding Snap (which he neither knew nor cared about), and went straight to bed. Morning came very quickly and again, Tom rose before anyone else had woken up and went to explore the castle. He did not see the use in sleeping in. Besides, he liked the idea of wandering around the castle while the world was still asleep. It gave him some privacy to his thoughts.

He found himself thinking a lot about Salazar Slytherin. Who had he really been? Why did Tom have this strong urge to find out more about him? Why was he being drawn to him by an unknown, almost electric force? He had to find out. He would not rest until he did.

Breakfast that day was the same as it had been the day before. Tom quietly ate his food and watched the students in the Great Hall, carrying on with their conversations or smearing jam on their toast. He waited patiently as the owl post arrived and students ripped open letters from home or skimmed through articles in the wizarding newspaper, _The Daily Prophet_. He figured he would wait until 10 minutes before the bell, before heading down to his first lesson for the day: Charms.

However, just as the clock struck 10 to 9, and students began to descend from the hall, a hand was placed on Tom's shoulder and he turned around.

"Hello Tom," said Professor Dumbledore, who was smiling kindly at him.

Tom rose to his feet quickly and faced him.

"Hello, professor," he said, bowing his head.

"How are you, Tom?" said Dumbledore. "How are you enjoying your classes?"

"Fine, sir," said Tom, meeting Dumbledore's eyes.

"Any favourites so far?" said Dumbledore.

"Transfiguration, I suppose," said Tom. "But I still have many new classes to attend today, sir."

"I am glad to see that you are liking it here," said Dumbledore, nodding.

"I do, sir," said Tom.

"Well, you'd better get to class, then. Don't want to be late."

"Have a good day, sir."

Tom bowed again to Professor Dumbledore, picked up his school bag, and exited the hall, cursing under his breath.

The Charms lesson that day was as interesting as it had been yesterday. The students learned the Lumos Solem spell, which Tom excelled at almost immediately.

"Well done!" little Professor Flitwick squeaked as he stopped at Tom's table and beamed at his efforts. Tom waved his wand in the air, keeping the expanded light pointed at the ceiling. "OH, JUST WELL DONE!"

"Oy, wait up, Tom!" Avery called after the lesson was over and Tom exited the classroom. "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts together, haven't we?"

"Yes," said Tom, continuing to walk.

Lestrange caught up with them.

"I just heard from my father that a muggle-born wizard tried to apply for a job at Borgin's place," he told them, smirking. "The nerve!"

"A muggle-born wizard?" said Avery, frowning. "That's very odd. Who does he think he is?"

"Dunno," said Lestrange, casually.

"A brave little hero," suggested Tom.

The two boys smirked at his comment.

They entered the classroom together, though Tom moved away from the boys who were headed to the back and sat at the very front instead. An elderly witch was standing at the front of the class, with her hands behind her back, waiting. Once the class had filed in, she stepped forwards.

"I am Professor Merrythought and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the next 5 years," she told them. "Should you achieve an O.W.L in my subject, I will be pleased to teach you at the N.E.W.T level."

The students collectively questioned her about the meaning of these words.

"The Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations take place in your fifth year. If you achieve the required passing grade for a subject, you are allowed to continue taking that subject at the Nastily Exhausting Wizard Testing level. Now, let's go ahead and get into Dark Arts topics."

Tom sat up in his seat and listened carefully.

"We will be studying and analysing a variety of different creatures this year, and their properties of course. These will include gnomes, doxies, bowtruckles, and gargoyles…nasty little beasts. Now, just to see where we stand, who here can tell me how to cure a werewolf bite?"

Tom raised his hand in the air, and no sooner than later realised that he was the only one.

"Yes, Mr..?"

"Riddle," said Tom.

"Very well, Mr. Riddle…"

"A mixture of powdered silver and dittany is applied to a fresh bite to seal the wound," answered Tom. "It allows the victim to live on as a werewolf."

"Excellent!" cried Professor Merrythought, beaming. "I see someone has actually opened up their Defense Against the Dark Arts book. Very well, 5 points to Slytherin!"

Tom nodded once at the witch, and then folded his arms on the desk.

"Now, what about bowtruckles?" continued Professor Merrythought, looking around the class. "They are commonly pleasant creatures, but will become vicious if you try to disturb their trees. How would you go about trying to take leaves or wood from a Bowtruckle's tree?"

Tom raised his hand again. Professor Merrythought was very pleased and pointed at him.

"Offer it wood lice or fairy eggs," answered Tom.

"Precisely!" beamed Professor Merrythought. "Another 5 points, Mr. Riddle! Say, are you by any chance the boy that came from the muggle orphanage?"

Tom stared at her.

"I am," he said, quietly. The other students in the class began to whisper amongst themselves.

"Yes, I heard Professor Dumbledore mention you," she said, thoughtfully. "I must say, he was right. You seem very logical."

"Thank you, professor," said Tom, nodding once at her.

"So, class, the connection between the werewolf bite and the bowtruckle is that they are both very..."

The rest of the lesson proceeded in the same fashion. Professor Merrythought continued to ask questions that only Tom knew the answers to. By the end of the lesson, he had won Slytherin house over 70 points. Though, after about half an hour, Professor Merrythought had multiplied the amount she awarded him per question, by two.

Tom had really enjoyed the class. Professor Merrythought was extremely knowledgeable when it came to the dark arts and Tom's eyes gleamed with excitement whenever she mentioned the name of another creature he'd never heard of before. He was very thirsty for knowledge and eagerly copied down the professor's every word.

"That was brilliant!" Avery exclaimed at the end of the lesson, as they walked out of the classroom. "How on earth did you know all of that?"

Tom did not answer but merely continued to walk.

"Well, we have a break now," said Avery. "Want to…uh, go do something? Play Wizard's Chess or maybe Exploding Snap?"

"No," said Tom, stopping to look at him. "Perhaps another time."

He turned away, not waiting for Avery to answer, and headed straight for the library. Once there, he seated himself at a corner table, spread open his books, and began to do his homework. He skipped lunch that day and continued to work until his next class. That way, by the end of the day, all of his homework was completed, and he was free to go back to the library and explore the records books.

He skimmed through them, looking for the name Riddle. There were centuries upon centuries worth of records but nowhere could he find any trace of the name. It was most peculiar. His father was simply nonexistent in the wizarding world. Could it be then, that his mother had been the magical one of the pair? No, thought Tom. If she had been, she wouldn't have died! Something was not right here.

He left the library at 10 o'clock that night and slowly made his way back to the Slytherin Common Room, keeping his head bowed and thinking hard.

"Tom?" said a voice he knew too well by now. He turned round to face Professor Dumbledore.

"Good evening, professor," he said, bowing his head again.

"What are you doing at this late hour, Tom?" said Dumbledore, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I was just finishing some homework up in the library, sir," said Tom.

It was the truth, after all. Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly at him and bid him good night, though Tom knew he had seen a hint of suspicion in those clear blue eyes. He didn't let that worry him though. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he had lots to do… starting with the search for his connection to Slytherin.


	6. Heir of Slytherin

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...It was the truth, after all. Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly at him and bid him good night, though Tom knew he had seen a hint of suspicion in those clear blue eyes. He didn't let that worry him though. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he had lots to do… starting with the search for his connection to Slytherin..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN**

September passed very quickly. Every morning, Tom awoke before the other Slytherins and went to explore the castle. He always ate without talking to anyone, and then walked to his classes alone. On some days, he allowed Avery and Lestrange to trail on after him, but other times, he insisted on being left alone.

Tom's classes were going very well. Professors Flitwick and Merrythought were absolutely appalled by his aptitude for the subjects. Professor Beery was most impressed with his successes in herbology and Professor Slughorn simply adored him. By the end of September, Tom could easily identify and handle Devil's Snare and Puffapods. He was gifted with locking spells and fire-making charms. He could recite the entire Gargoyle Strike of 1911 and the Soap Blizzard of 1378. He could brew Herbicide potions and cures for boils. But most of all, he could identify any of the dark creatures studied in Defense Against the Dark Arts so far, including gytrashes, imps, gnomes, and gargoyles.

Professor Dumbledore was the only one who did not marvel over Tom's talents. Even though he'd successfully proven his abilities to do switching spells and turn small creatures into matchboxes or mice into snuffboxes, Dumbledore was not impressed. He was the only one of Tom's teachers who never awarded him house points for his accomplishments. Tom merely brushed this away however. Professor Dumbledore was the least of his worries.

Just after the start of the Quidditch season, Tom began to visit the library more often, searching every book of record he could find. But still, the name Riddle did not come up anywhere. He'd even bothered the librarian a couple of times but as he'd predicted, she was of no help. As he turned to leave the library one afternoon, something caught his eye. He turned around to look at the sign on the door that read "RESTRICTED SECTION". Restricted? Why would there be a section for restricted content? The thought occupied his brain all throughout October and November as he tried to gain access to this section. However, the professors were very reluctant on letting him in, which only further postponed his finding Tom Riddle.

By the time the Christmas Holidays had arrived, Tom was each and every one of his teachers' favourite student…with the exception of Professor Dumbledore, of course. He was at the top of every class. But his search for his father had not ended. Every Quidditch match, when the rest of the school was outside watching, Tom was in the library, searching. He knew that if he asked one of his professors, they'd surely know which of his parents had been of magical blood. However, he did not think it a good idea to let the teachers know that he was pursuing his ancestry.

"Tom Riddle?" said Professor Beery, who was standing at the entrance hall on the last day of term, reading from a list.

"Yes, professor?" said Tom, passing by the students carrying suitcases.

"You're staying for the holidays, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well then, it looks like it'll be just you and Mr. Avery. But, seeing as how you're both in the same house, I dare say you will find something to occupy yourselves with."

"I'm sure we will, sir," said Tom, glancing once at Avery who stood beside him.

"Why did you stay?" Tom asked him once they were back in the safety of their common room.

Avery looked embarrassed.

"I knew you were s-staying and I wanted to keep you c-company."

"I don't need company," said Tom.

Avery looked down at his feet.

"I could h-help you," he said.

"Help me with what?" said Tom, glaring at him.

"H-help you with whatever it is you do every time you s-sneak off," said Avery, who now looked a little bit nervous.

Tom didn't say anything for a long time, and then surprised Avery with a small smile.

"Could you get me into the Restricted Section at the library?"

"The what?" said Avery, surprised again.

"The Restricted Section," Tom repeated. "I need a book from there."

"W-why do you—"

"Can you do it or not?"

"Well….yeah, it's no problem. Just ask a teacher for a pass!"

Tom turned away from him.

"I need to get in there without anyone knowing that I've been there," he said, through gritted teeth.

Avery thought for a long minute.

"Okay, I'll do it," he finally said.

"Good," said Tom, wheeling round to look at him. "Okay . . . tomorrow night is the Christmas feast. It'll just be us and the teachers. After the feast, I'll go and distract them while you go and get the book for me. I'll write down the name for you. Leave it on my bed and then hurry back as soon as you can. If they ask where you've been, tell them the food made your stomach upset. Got it?"

Avery nodded.

And so it was that the following night, they went through with their plan. Seeing as how they were the only two students in the school who had stayed behind for the Holidays, the teachers beckoned them to join them at the staff table for all meals. They laughed and discussed the castle ghosts while Tom and Avery sat, ate, and listened.

"Well Tom, you have written an excellent paper on ghosts, haven't you?" said Professor Merrythought.

"Yes, ma'am," said Tom.

"Top marks I believe it was," said Professor Merrythought to Dumbledore who nodded with a small smile.

"Excuse me," said Avery suddenly, and he got up from his seat and exited the hall.

Tom turned round to Professor Slughorn.

"Professor, might I ask you a question?"

"Ask away, Tom!" he replied, hiccupping once.

"Well, I was just wondering...are all records of past students kept?"

"Why, I believe so, yes," said Professor Slughorn, taking another sip from his glass of wine.

"Trying to find your family, are you?" said Professor Dumbledore, without looking up from his plate on which he was slicing a steak.

"Yes, sir," said Tom, slowly. "I was just being curious."

"Curiosity is not a sin, Tom," said Dumbledore, looking up at him with a smile. "But you should exercise caution."

"Yes, sir," said Tom.

Dumbledore clapped his hands and rose from his seat.

"Well, I dare say I have had enough of this glorious feast and am ready for bed. See you in class, Tom. Professors, good-night."

They bid him farewell and he turned around to leave. Tom jumped from his seat and followed him out of the Great Hall.

"Professor," he said, frantically searching his mind for a topic of conversation. "How is it possible that some students here come from muggle families?"

"We do not know how it works exactly but there are loads of people in the muggle world who are born with magical abilities," Dumbledore explained as they walked.

"It's strange," said Tom.

"I'll admit that it is unique," said Dumbledore, "But I find it to be extraordinary. Now, where has your friend gone to? I certainly hope he's alright."

Tom shrugged.

"He _is _your friend, isn't he?" said Dumbledore, now stopping to look at him.

Tom stared at him, trying to see beyond those clear blue eyes.

"We are acquainted, yes," said Tom.

"Good, I'm glad," said Dumbledore, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll see you in class, Tom."

"Good night, professor."

* * *

"Got it!" cried Avery, thrusting the book onto Tom's lap.

Tom quickly flipped through the pages and found the name that he was looking for…The Baron. According to the book, the ghost that haunted Slytherin house, the Bloody Baron, had attended Hogwarts during the founders' time and had been learned in the magical arts by Salazar Slytherin himself. This was where Tom was to get his answers. He looked up at Avery.

"Let's play Exploding Snap."

Avery beamed.

The following morning, Tom rose early and went looking for the Bloody Baron. It would be best to do this now, while most of the school was away. It was not difficult to find the Bloody Baron. He was sitting in the corner of a 6th floor corridor and counting the beads on a necklace he had around his neck.

"Hello," said Tom, surprising him.

The Bloody Baron jumped up and stared at him.

"Sorry," said Tom quickly. "I didn't mean to…_scare_ you."

"_YOU_ DIDN'T SCARE ME!" cried the angry ghost. "_I _SCARE _YOU_! BOO! GO AWAY!"

"No, I don't feel like it," said Tom, calmly. "I have a question for you. A couple, actually."

"F…f…for me?" said the ghost, staring at him.

"Yes," said Tom, stepping forwards. "I'd like to know about Salazar Slytherin. He taught you when you were at school here."

"What?" said the ghost, puzzled.

"You heard me," said Tom.

"But…no one's ever asked me about him. Why do you want to know?"

"I feel…that I may possibly have a connection with him," said Tom, coolly.

"I…" said the ghost, glancing around the empty corridor.

"Would you like to go somewhere more private?"

"NO!" barked the ghost.

He looked around nervously again, and then lowered his voice.

"I knew it from the moment I saw you."

Tom leaned forwards to hear the baron's hoarse whispers.

"I could see his gleam in your eyes…"

"So it's _true_?" whispered Tom.

"I don't see how it can't be," said the ghost.

Tom's eyes were now sparkling with delight, though he didn't smile.

"Give me a name," he demanded of the ghost. "I need a name."

"I can't," said the baron, now raising his voice again. "Now go away, you petty little first-year."

"I command you to give me a name," said Tom, not moving. "You said it yourself. _I_ am the descendant. _His _descendant. And _he_ was _your_ master. Therefore, _I_ am now your master."

"I…" said the ghost, looking around nervously again.

Tom glared at him.

"Oh alright," said the Baron, lowering his voice again. "I may have heard the name Gaunt a while ago. Don't ask me where because I don't know."

"Thank you," said Tom, and he turned his back on the ghost.

For the rest of the Christmas holidays, Tom rechecked all of the library books he'd already searched, for the name Gaunt. However, even this, was met with no luck. Frustrated, he decided to consult the ghost again, this time with his wand.

"I TOLD YOU!" cried the Bloody Baron, backing away from him as Tom cornered him again the following week. "I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING I KNOW!"

"I couldn't find the name Gaunt anywhere," said Tom. "It is simply nonexistent."

"That can't be!" stammered the ghost. "It must mean that she never went to Hogwarts then."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"You mean to say that neither of my parents ever attended this school?"

"It's possible!"

Tom slowly lowered his wand.

"What about Slytherin?"

"What…what about him?"

"Well he founded the school…and Gaunt was his descendant…how come my mother didn't attend his school?"

"Why, Slytherin left!"

Tom raised his wand again.

"So?!"

The ghost closed his eyes and raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright!" he cried. "I… I thought you knew. Slytherin left the school shortly after because of a quarrel with the other founders."

"What about?"

"About the students admitted to Hogwarts… Slytherin wanted to ban all mudbloods from the school but the other founders did not agree with him so he left."

Tom eyed the ghost carefully, then slowly lowered his wand again.

"He really left then?" he repeated. "Just like that?"

"Weak move, isn't it?" said the Baron.

"Salazar Slytherin was not weak," declared Tom. "He was clever. And I'm sure he left behind something at the school."

"Well, don't ask me because I don't know anything about it," said the Baron. "Take your questions up to your head of house."

And before Tom could reply, the ghost vanished through the wall in a sort of run.

"I just might," said Tom to himself.

The following night, as the professors carried on with their conversations, Tom whispered instructions to Avery who nodded in understanding and quickly got up, looking panicked.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he cried.

Dumbledore looked up at him.

"I…I think I left my wand in your classroom!"

"Did you?" said Dumbledore, standing up. "No need to worry, Avery. We'll go and get it straight away!"

They exited the hall together, Dumbledore trying to calm Avery the whole way. Tom turned round to face Professor Slughorn.

"Professor,"

"What now, Tom?"

"I just wanted to know more about Slytherin."

"About Slytherin?" Professor Slughorn smiled. "Now _there's _a topic I love. What would you like to know?"

"He left Hogwarts because he disagreed with the other founders, didn't he?"

"Oh yes," said Professor Slughorn, nodding into his food.

"Well…he was the cleverest wizard of his time. How could he just give up and run away…just like that?"

Professor Slughorn looked at him with a small smile, then turned around to check that the other professors were busy in conversation (they were), and leaned forwards to whisper to Tom.

"Between you and me," he said, "Slytherin would never have done such a foolish thing. _Of course_ he left something of him behind to mark his presence at the castle."

"What was it?"

"'Tis known as the Chamber of Secrets."

But before Professor Slughorn could offer any more explanations, Avery had returned with Professor Dumbledore.

"I was sure that I had left it there," he was saying.

"No matter," said Dumbledore, waving his hand.

Professor Slughorn winked at Tom who grinned back at him.

"You did great," Tom told Avery as they headed back to the Common Room for bed.

"Thanks," said Avery, who looked very pleased with himself.

"I think you are very useful," said Tom.

"Thanks again," said Avery. He really enjoyed hearing Tom compliment him, which was very rare of Tom to do.

At the end of the Christmas Holidays, the students returned back to the school and classes resumed. Tom was so busy with all of his classes that he never found the time to explore the Chamber of Secrets in any of the books in the library. Though, he already sensed that it would not be mentioned there, and asking more teachers about it would be all too suspicious. But he knew enough. He knew that he was Slytherin's last remaining descendant…his heir. And nothing else seemed to matter, for the time being. Not even his dishevelled parents.

On the last day before the students were set to depart from the castle for the summer holidays, Tom stopped by the library one last time and searched another thick book, this time all about Salazar Slytherin. He found a family tree and traced it down the years, his finger stopping on a name. Merope Gaunt. This would have to be her. No other date seemed to match. Merope Gaunt. So his _mother_ had been the magical one. She had been a pureblood. And since his father was not recorded anywhere, this had to mean that he had been a muggle. Or still was. He knew that his mother was dead but there was no certainty that his father was not still alive.

Tom boarded the Hogwarts Express the next day, departing from the castle for two whole months. He sat with Avery and Lestrange in one compartment and agreed to play Exploding Snap with them. They both got really excited whenever Tom agreed to do something with them, and he figured there was no harm in gaining a few allies now. They would help him with his mission afterwards…to find this Chamber of Secrets. He would not give up on his search for his father though. He would find him. Track him down. After all, that was what Slytherin would have done.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Hope you're liking the story so far. Feel free to comment below with any suggestions or likes/dislikes. The next chapter will come within the next few days or so, and will be titled "Mrs. Cole Again". It will go into detail about Tom's summer before second-year and his now-slightly-changed interactions with the children at the orphanage and with Mrs. Cole, seeing as how he is now a more learned wizard with greater ambitions. **


	7. Mrs Cole Again

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...They would help him with his mission afterwards…to find this Chamber of Secrets. He would not give up on his search for his father though. He would find him. Track him down. After all, that was what Slytherin would have done..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: MRS. COLE AGAIN**

Returning to Wool's Orphanage was the worst thing Tom had ever had to do, to date. After having experienced the marvellous things that Hogwarts and the Wizarding World itself had to offer, this was almost like a punishment. What's worse, he was told several times that he was not to use magic outside of school. This meant that that perfectly beautiful wand that he had would be of no use to him that summer.

And so it was that with a heavy heart, Tom climbed out of the Hogwarts Express at the end of June, took his bags, bid farewell to Avery, and began to walk to the orphanage. He had never wanted anything more than to burn down the home. Sooner than desired, he reached the front steps of the orphanage, sighed, and pushed open the door.

Mrs. Cole was in her office, as usual, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette. At the sight of Tom, she quickly sat up in her chair and folded up the newspaper.

"Tom," she said, anxiously. "You're back."

"I am," said Tom from the doorway.

"Good," said Mrs. Cole. "Welcome back."

Tom stared at her. She had not changed one bit in his absence. She was still the same, ordinary-looking woman, though her hair was rather messy today.

"Um…well, I…unfortunately, we had to give your room to a newcomer in your absence," said Mrs. Cole, who was now shuffling through sheets of paper on her desk. "But I have a key here somewhere and I've made a space for you down below."

"Down below?" repeated Tom.

Mrs. Cole looked up at him almost apologetically.

"Uh, yes Tom. The private room in the basement. I'm sorry but it's all the space that I have available right now. Later, when Olivia turns 18 and leaves to live on her own, we will give you her space but for now—"

"That's alright," said Tom. "I want the basement."

Mrs. Cole stared at him.

"You…you want it?"

"Yes," said Tom. "I'd like to be by myself."

"Uh, alright," said Mrs. Cole, uncertainly. She gripped the key in her hand tightly and then rose from her chair. "Follow me, then."

* * *

The following morning, the breakfast bell echoed throughout the orphanage, waking up its inhabitants. Tom sat up in his bed and turned on the lamp. It was most definitely better to live down here in the basement. Mrs. Cole hardly ever checked up on him so he could finally live in peace. Still, his days were sure to be pretty dull. He would not get his new booklist until the end of the summer, so he did not have much to do with his time. All he had was a book that Professor Flitwick had let him borrow, titled _Hogwarts: A History_, but that was only one book for two whole months.

Tom got up, dressed, and went upstairs for breakfast. The eating room was already full when he entered it, though all of the children froze at the sight of him.

"Oh, I forgot to mention!" said Mrs. Cole, awkwardly. "Tom is back from school, everyone. He will be staying with us until the end of the summer, won't you Tom?"

Tom strode over to an empty seat and looked around.

"Where is Billy?" he asked Mrs. Cole, without looking at her.

He saw Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, both of whom avoided meeting his eyes but merely looked down at their eggs and bacon.

"Billy is not feeling well this morning," said Mrs. Cole, who also sat down.

"That's a shame," said Tom, suppressing the urge to grin.

Later that day, when Mrs. Cole had retreated to her office to do whatever unimportant things she had to do, Tom snuck upstairs and entered Billy's room without knocking. Billy, who had been sitting by the window, jumped up at the sight of Tom, looking very frightful.

"You look like you're feeling just fine," Tom observed, closing the door behind him.

"I…uh…well…I…" stammered Billy, backing away into a wall now.

His eye began to twitch. Had Tom really scared him that much? He looked to be on the verge of wetting himself. This would be interesting.

"You know," said Tom, casually walking over to the chair and sitting down. "I had a brilliant year."

"D-did you?" said Billy, unmoving from his spot.

"Yep," said Tom, smiling brightly at him, "Learned a whole lot of stuff."

"T-that's…uh, cool," said Billy.

"The kind of stuff that I showed you, that is," said Tom, "And loads more."

"Right," said Billy, in a small voice.

"Billy?" the door swung open and there stood Amy Benson, freezing at the sight of Tom. Her face went as pale as the moon and her eyes darted to the floor. "H-hello."

"Hi," said Tom, even more brightly. "Come in, come in. Won't you join us?"

"I…" Amy continued to look down at the floor. "I don't want to."

"I do," said Tom.

Amy continued to look down at the floor and then slowly made her way over to the bed and sat down.

"Will your _friend_ be joining us as well?" said Tom.

Amy shook her head.

"Dennis is in his room."

"I'd like him to join us," said Tom. "Go and fetch him."

Nodding once at the ground, Amy stood up and left the room. Billy continued to stare at Tom from the corner of the room.

"W-why d-do…you want…D-Dennis?" he asked, his voice slightly trembling.

"I just thought we could all sit together, like old times, you know," said Tom, looking around the room. "Why are you shut up here? The old cat said you were sick or something."

Billy turned scarlet.

"Well?" said Tom, raising an eyebrow.

"It still hurts," said Billy, in barely more than a whisper.

"Does it?" said Tom, thoughtfully. "I had no idea."

Billy nodded, then looked up hopefully.

"Could…could you maybe…fix me?"

Tom stared at him, no longer smiling.

"I could but I don't want to."

"B-but…I…"

But before Billy could finish, Amy had returned with Dennis.

"Shut the door," Tom ordered and they did so.

"Sit."

The three sat together on the bed across from him, none of them meeting his eyes. Tom leaned forwards.

"I only came here to clear something up," he began, "From now on, I will be coming back only for the summers and I will be living in the basement. I command you to pretend that you do not know me and in return, I will pretend that I do not know you."

The three nodded in unison.

"You do understand this, yes?" said Tom, pausing. "You are to reveal to no one what had happened in that cave, what I can do, or even this conversation. You are not to forget it…you are to keep it as a sort of reminder as to what I will do to you if you upset me or disobey me."

The three nodded again.

Pleased with his day's work, Tom straightened up, crossed the room, and closed the door on them.

* * *

"Hello, Tom," said Mrs. Cole as she entered his room, leaving the door open, as always.

Tom sat up on his bed, slipping _Hogwarts: A History_ under the covers, and stared at her.

"C-could we talk?" said Mrs. Cole, smiling sweetly.

Tom said nothing but continued to stare at her. Deciding that this did not mean no, Mrs. Cole crossed the room and sat on the chair next to the bed.

It was the first day of August. Tom had spent most of the day in his room reading, not even coming out to eat. He did not feel hungry much these days. He just spent every hour waiting. . . waiting hopelessly for the first of September to finally arrive. He could not wait to get out of there.

"I…I suppose I just wanted to find out a little bit about…about…how your year was like," said Mrs. Cole, avoiding his eyes.

"It was fine," said Tom, simply.

"Could you maybe tell me about it?"

"There's nothing to tell."

She had come there to spy on him. She had come there to find out where it was that he had been sent. Did someone talk? Had it been Amy or Dennis? Billy would be foolish to. On second thought, they would _all _be foolish to.

"Oh that can't be true; you were there for a whole year! Surely, there must be something you could tell me."

Tom thought for a long minute.

"It was very…_informative._"

"Yes, go on," nodded Mrs. Cole.

"I learned a lot," said Tom. "And I like it there. I will be returning every year until I am grown."

"That's…that's nice," said Mrs. Cole. "What did you learn?"

"All sorts."

"Examples?"

"You wouldn't understand."

Mrs. Cole, looking offended, sat back in her chair.

"Now Tom, I went to school, if you didn't already guess, so I of course will understand, if you tell me."

"No, you won't," said Tom. "No one who hasn't gone there will understand."

Mrs. Cole stared at him for a long time, then got up from her chair abruptly and left the room, shutting the door hard behind her. Smiling slightly to himself, Tom took _Hogwarts: A History_ out from under the covers and continued to read.


	8. Back at Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...Mrs. Cole stared at him for a long time, then got up from her chair abruptly and left the room, shutting the door hard behind her. Smiling slightly to himself, Tom took _Hogwarts: A History_ out from under the covers and continued to read..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 8: BACK AT HOGWARTS**

_Dear Tom Riddle,_

_Enclosed, please find a list of the necessary books and equipment to complete your second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well as your train ticket. We hope you have had a safe summer and we will see you back here on the First of September._

_Signed,_

_Armando Dippet_

_Headmaster_

Tom stared at the letter that had arrived earlier that morning, his eyes sparkling with glee. _About time_, he thought. He hurried out of the orphanage and broke at a run to the Leaky Cauldron, without even telling Mrs. Cole. He did not need to ask Tom the barman for help this time. Just the thought of doing that again was revolting. He hated asking people for help.

There were barely any people at Diagon Alley that day. Wizarding families usually started to arrive towards the end of the month, and as it was only August 14, Tom was early. He preferred it this way, though. Clinging onto the money pouch that the Headmaster had attached to his letter, Tom made his way to _Flourish and Blotts_ and went straight for the second-hand pile.

"A little early, aren't you, boy?" said the wizard behind the counter.

Tom ignored him.

Before turning back to him with his finds, Tom paused. Something had caught his eye. There was a whole stack of volumes titled "Standard Book of Spells" (Grades 1-7). Tom looked down at his pile, frowning. He was holding the Standard Book of Spells Grade 2, and he'd bought the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 last year. Why not buy all of them now?

That was exactly what he did. The wizard behind the counter chuckled to himself as he processed these books, but Tom bought them anyway. He left _Flourish and Blotts_ carrying three heavy bags, and went to _Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment _next. As soon as he stepped into the shop, he froze. Professor Dumbledore was deep in conversation with the witch behind the counter. He turned around at the sound of the door closing with the ring of a bell, and took in Tom's presence for a moment before smiling warmly.

"Hello again, Tom,"

"Hello, professor," said Tom, stepping forwards.

"This is your student?" the witch asked Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Tom here is the smartest in his year."

Tom was a bit surprised to hear this coming from Dumbledore. The entire previous year, he had been the only one of Tom's teachers who had not ever praised him or awarded him for his achievements.

The witch began to help another customer and Dumbledore approached Tom and frowned, though still smiling.

"I'm surprised to see you here this early, Tom."

"I wanted to get my books now so that I could start reading," said Tom.

"That's very responsible of you," said Dumbledore.

"Well, there's not much to do at the orphanage anyway," shrugged Tom.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's no matter," said Tom. "I'll be back at school soon."

Dumbledore turned to leave, and then stopped and looked at Tom again.

"How is Mrs. Cole?"

"She's Mrs. Cole," said Tom.

After Tom had bought all of the things on his list, he went back to Knockturn Alley and visited _Borgin and Burke_'s again. Seemingly, there was nobody in the shop, but he didn't dare stealing anything for he could sense someone watching him. He simply fancied looking at the objects. He'd already picked out a few fascinating ones that he'd be likely to buy once he got his hands on some gold, but for now, he could only just look.

Once he got back to the orphanage, Tom sat down and began studying right away. He studied day and night so that on the first of September, when Mrs. Cole escorted him out of the orphanage and he made his way to King's Cross Station, he'd already read all of his course books, including the entire _Standard Book of Spells_ series. He'd marked the pages of the spells that fascinated him most and made a mental note for himself to try them out just as soon as he was back at Hogwarts.

"TOM!" cried Avery at the sight of him. He rushed to Tom's side and beamed. "How was your summer?!"

"It was fine," said Tom, giving him his bags. "Here, load these onto the train."

"Alright, Tom," said Avery, eagerly.

Tom passed the wizard families bidding farewell to their children and boarded the train alone. Avery found his compartment shortly after the train had begun moving, and was accompanied by Lestrange, who had already changed into his Hogwarts robes.

"My father told me to try out for Quidditch," announced Lestrange.

"That'd be fun," said Avery, and then catching Tom's eye, he straightened up. "Um, I mean…pfft, yeah. _Quidditch_. You mean, that pathetic game?"

"What's wrong with Quidditch?" said Lestrange, looking more at Tom.

"It's a waste of time," Tom answered him. "Weak people use things like sports and little games to make themselves feel better about their obvious lack of power."

This silenced Lestrange for just about the rest of the train journey. The next time he spoke, it was at the welcome-back feast, and it was to whisper to Avery, "He's a bit…_strange_, isn't he?"

"_You're_ strange," Avery retaliated.

Tom smiled to himself. Avery had completely surrendered himself to Tom without even knowing it.

After the feast, Kirk the Prefect led the Slytherin first-years back into their Common Room, while Tom and the second-years followed knowingly. Everyone went up to their dormitories, but Tom stayed behind on the couches by the fireplace with Avery, and Lestrange, who didn't really seem like he wanted to be there. Tom stared off into the fireplace. The whole of the green common room looked exactly as it had last year. It was good to be back and finish off what he'd started.


	9. Second Year

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...Tom stared off into the fireplace. The whole of the green common room looked exactly as it had last year. It was good to be back and finish off where he'd started..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 9: SECOND YEAR**

"Today, we will be discussing fluxweed and its many fascinating properties," announced Professor Beery. "Who here can tell me what fluxweed is used for?"

Tom raised his hand in the air almost automatically and Professor Beery smiled at him at once.

"In making the Polyjuice Potion, sir," said Tom.

"EXCELLENT!" beamed Professor Beery . "And how many scruples of it are needed to brew this complicated potion?"

"Sixteen," said Tom, without pausing to think.

"That's right! 10 points to Slytherin!" cried Professor Beery, still beaming. "You have talent, dear Tom. Oh yes, talent indeed."

It was the end of November. The last three months had zoomed on by in the blink of an eye. Tom was still at the top of all his classes and Avery was still clinging on to him. Lestrange was not as keen to hang out with the two of them, which only further fueled Tom's desire to include him in their little adventures about the castle.

As Professor Beery continued on with the lesson, Avery leaned closer to Tom and continued their whispered conversation.

"So when do you want to sneak out?"

"Later," said Tom from the corner of his mouth.

"I want to know now!"

Tom gave him a threatening look which made Avery back away immediately. He steered clear of Tom for the rest of the lesson, and did not walk out of greenhouse 3 with him, nor did he return to the Great Hall with him at supper. It was only after, late in the evening when everyone was in their common rooms, that Avery finally came to sit with Tom on the couch.

"I'm…s…sorry," he said, looking down at his feet.

Tom did not look up from his copy of the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_.

"I d-ddin't mean to upset you."

"Have you heard of this spell, Expelliarmus?"

"Uh, no," said Avery, frowning at the book.

"It is a disarming charm," said Tom. "Let me demonstrate."

He motioned for Avery to stand up. Avery hesitated. Tom glared at him for a few seconds, and then Avery did as he was told. Tom pointed his wand at him and muttered, "Expelliarmus". Avery was thrown backwards a few feet and hit the wall.

He cried aloud in pain. Laughing out loud, Tom sat back down on the couch and continued to read his book. A little while later, Avery joined him on the couch again.

"So, as I was saying, I'm sorry, okay?"

"I don't like it when people don't listen to me," said Tom, coolly.

"Yes, I know," said Avery, feeling ashamed of himself.

Tom looked up.

"We will sneak out tonight. I want to show you the trophy room."

"Alright," said Avery.

"Tell Lestrange to come too."

Avery hesitated.

"I think he has a transfiguration test tomorrow," he said, not meeting Tom's eyes.

"He will come," said Tom.

It was not a question or a demand. It was a fact. He knew that sooner or later, Lestrange would come crawling himself. It was only a matter of time.

Sure enough, that very night, when all the Slytherins had gone off to bed and Tom and Avery were the only ones left in the Common Room, Lestrange came to join them just as they were about to crawl through the portrait hole.

"Hi," he said in a small voice.

"Let's go," was Tom's only response.

They weren't supposed to be out in the corridors at this time of night, and the two nervous boys following Tom were very well aware of this fact as they trotted on behind him.

* * *

"WOW!" cried Avery excitedly as he eyed the trophies that Tom pointed at.

"Focus," said Tom, sternly. The two boys stood before him, watching him carefully. "These trophies here are not just pieces of gold and silver with carvings in them. They are representations of triumph and victory. Do you two want trophies like these?"

The two boys nodded vigorously.

"And do you know how to obtain trophies like these?" continued Tom.

"No," said Avery and Lestrange together.

"I do," lied Tom. "And I promise you that if you obey my every command from this day forth, you will be very victorious in life."

"We will win trophies?" said Avery.

"_No_," said Tom, "You will be _victorious._ The trophies are symbols for victory. _Focus_, Avery. Don't be such an _idiot!_"

Avery closed his mouth and looked at his feet.

"How are _you_ able to promise this?" said Lestrange, narrowing his eyes at Tom.

Tom raised his eyebrows at him and slowly withdrew his wand. Lestrange, noticing this, took a step back.

"Do I need to prove it to you?" said Tom, holding his wand in view of Lestrange.

"No, sir," said Lestrange, gulping.

Tom frowned. _Sir_. He really liked being called that. It fit.

During the Christmas holidays, Avery, Lestrange, and a few other students from a combination of houses stayed behind. On most nights however, Tom left them to go to the library and continue his search for the Chamber of Secrets. Sure enough, in the Restricted Section, he found out that Salazar Slytherin had built the hidden chamber in 932 A.D and had hidden a monster in it. The monster acted only against those born of muggle-blood. It had been Salazar Slytherin's mission to purge the school of all those who, in his view, were unworthy to study magic.

The more Tom read about this, the more he desired to find this chamber. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not do it. By April, he had put the quest for the chamber on hold, and resumed his search for information about his past. He could not find much information about his mother anywhere…just the reference from Salazar Slytherin's treeline. However, he did find another name that was related to his mother and the years seemed to coordinate as they were not that far apart… Morfin Gaunt. He stored this name in his brain, promising to come back to it.

Tom's second year at Hogwarts had been pretty uneventful and fairly similar to his first year. He continued to excel at each and every one of his subjects, earning hundreds of house points in the process. His teachers praised him continuously…with the exception of Dumbledore, of course. However, Tom was not concerned. Avery and Lestrange were his new mission. They were becoming frightened of him and did everything he told them, which worked perfectly in accordance to his plan. He did not allow them to spend much time with him though. He still enjoyed a lot of time to himself and mostly preferred to operate alone.

Professor Dumbledore continued to watch Tom carefully…in class, during meals in the Great Hall…everywhere. This really annoyed Tom as those accusatory eyes followed him around the halls. From the moment he'd first met Dumbledore, he knew. He _knew _that Dumbledore was not like the others. A part of Tom was afraid of him, though he did not like to admit this even to himself.

Finally, during the week of break that he enjoyed after his end-of-year exams, Tom made two very crucial discoveries. He'd finally made the connection between Morfin Gaunt and his mother. Morfin had been her brother…_his_ uncle. And he was still alive. This breakthrough was not much, but it kept Tom pleased.

The more important discovery however, was stumbled upon quite accidentally in another book. Tom had become very interested in his ability to speak parseltongue, and he was skimming through a dusty old book called _The Slithering One_, when he came across a rather odd term…basilisk, it read. According to the book, the basilisk was a fearful creature (a large serpent) whose eye had the ability to kill if it met another's. And then, quite accidentally, Tom caught the name Salazar Slytherin and made the connection right away. The basilisk was what resided in the Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk was the monster that Slytherin had created to get rid of mudbloods. _How genius! _Tom quickly became obsessed with finding this chamber, figuring out how to open it, and finishing his great forefather's noble work. But seeing as how it was the end of the year, he knew that all of this would have to wait.

_No matter_, he thought. He had all the time in the world. Unlike his filthy, useless mother, he would never succumb to death quite so easily.

On the last day of term, Tom boarded the Hogwarts Express again and watched as it drove away from the castle he already longed to return to. _Great. Another dreadful summer. _And now that he had made these new discoveries about his uncle and about the Chamber of Secrets, he had never wanted anything more than to stay at Hogwarts. He had learned so much that year. He knew the International Warlock Convention of 1289 off by heart. He could brew hair-raising potions and swelling solutions in his sleep. He could do a variety of different spells, from tickling charms to memory charms to freezing charms to engorgement charms to severing charms and unlocking charms. Half of this stuff not even his classmates could do.

As the train pulled into King's Cross Station, and Avery and Lestrange waved goodbye to Tom, Tom thought about the events of the year. He wished he had made those two discoveries earlier on in the year. That way, he would have had more time to explore the castle for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. He promised himself that that would be his sole mission the following year. As the Heir of Slytherin, it was _his_ duty to continue his forefather's work. Professor Dumbledore though, would make this quite challenging. Tom was sure of it.

Although, finding his relatives was equally as important to him. And wouldn't his forefather want him to take care of them first, before embarking on any great missions? He thought about it hard as he made his way back to that dreadful orphanage and locked himself up in the basement. By evening, he concluded that it would be best to first track them down—find out where they lived—before going ahead to look for the Chamber of Secrets. That was the wiser choice.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey readers! I will post the next chapter within the next couple of days. It is called "Third Year" and will feature more of Tom trying to discover the whereabouts of his remaining relatives. There will be parts in Hogsmeade and more moments with Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore. Also, there will be an addition to Tom's, Avery's, and Lestrange's little group.**

**Enjoy!**


	10. Third Year

**Author's Note: ****Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...By evening, he concluded that it would be best to first track them down—find out where they lived—before going ahead to look for the Chamber of Secrets. That was the wiser choice..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 10: THIRD YEAR**

Tom's third year at Hogwarts was certainly much better than the first two had been, though he started Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Kettleburn, and absolutely detested the subject. Tom continued to excel in all his classes and his teachers continued to make lengthy speeches about his successes in front of the whole class. He continued to win Slytherin the house cup each year, for earning countless points every day. He continued skipping Quidditch games to revise at the library. But the introduction of Hogsmeade was certainly a pleasant change.

Third years were given permission to attend the village of Hogsmeade on weekends. As it was that Tom came from an orphanage and did not exactly have parents or guardians that could permit him to visit the village, Tom decided to visit the Headmaster and request special permission.

"Tom!" said Professor Dippet when Tom walked through the door to his office one Sunday night in October. "Come in, come in."

Tom crossed the large, circular office and sat at the desk, across from the beaming headmaster.

"What can I do for my star student?"

"Well, I—"

"Before you continue, I was wondering if you could perhaps tell me a small fact about the Wiggenweld Potion," interrupted Professor Dippet.

"Of course, sir," said Tom, frowning. "The Wiggenweld Potion is a healing potion. It has the power to awaken a person from a magically-induced sleep."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Professor Dippet. "Every single time! Why, Professor Slughorn was right. You are extraordinary. Now, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about tonight?"

"I was hoping, professor, if I could ask you to sign my Hogsmeade permission form."

Professor Dippet frowned. He had not been expecting this, and sensing that, Tom quickly continued.

"I don't know if Professor Dumbledore has told you or not, but I come from an orphanage in London. I do not have a caregiver to sign the form, and I would really like the opportunity to be able to visit the village with my classmates and—"

"Not to worry, boy!" said Professor Dippet, waving his hand in the air. "I will take care of it. You needn't worry. You are the star of this school. The whole of the student body follows you. Why, I see no harm in allowing you to enjoy the luxuries of Hogsmeade. It is quite a splendid village."

"Thank you, professor," said Tom, smiling. "I knew you'd understand."

"Of course, of course, boy," smiled Professor Dippet.

* * *

"Alright everyone, follow me!" cried Professor Beery as he led the students through the Entrance Hall and across the Courtyard towards Hogsmeade Village next day.

"And there's this shop called Zonko's and this other place called The Three Broomsticks where they serve this drink my father told me about, it's called Butterbeer and it's supposed to be really good, and then there's also…" Avery went on and on about Hogsmeade the whole way there. Tom ignored him.

He thought a lot about his uncle…the scum that he was. At thirteen years old, Tom finally understood that his uncle, knowing about his existence, had never thought to take him in. He'd preferred that Tom grow up in an orphanage as opposed to in his care. No matter, though. Tom would make sure to track him down and make him pay for all those years of misery, seeing as how his mother was dead and he could not make her pay. But he supposed she'd already paid. After all, what could be worse than death? Nothing, as far as he knew.

He was going to track his father down too…eventually. Though, he could already sense that this would prove to be even more challenging. Why could he not have just been born into a regular, pureblood family like all _normal _wizards?

"Whoops, sorry Tom!" cried Gryffindor Emily Troops as she bumped into Tom, having been skipping her way down the path.

Tom ignored her.

The village of Hogsmeade looked exactly as how Avery had described it. Unimpressed, Tom made his way over to the Three Broomsticks, ordered this 'butterbeer', and sat with the _Standard Book of Spells, grade 3_, revising.

"Why are you always studying?" Lestrange asked him. It seemed that he had been summoning up the courage to speak directly to Tom, for they had been sitting in silence for a good 20 minutes before he actually spoke.

"Knowledge is power," said Tom, without looking up from his book.

"Y-yes but, isn't there anything else you'd be interested in doing with your time?" said Lestrange, rather nervously.

Tom casually flipped the page of his book.

"I suppose you mean Quidditch, do you?" he said, lazily.

"I dunno," said Lestrange, shrugging, "Anything, really."

"It's like I said," continued Tom, "Sports and petty little games are for weak people. They rely on them to make themselves feel better about their complete lack of power in all other aspects. People like _us_ do not need them."

Lestrange decided not to say anything and remained quiet the whole trip back to Hogwarts. In fact, he remained quiet around Tom for the rest of the week and only after Quidditch tryouts were over and the teams were set did he actually start talking again.

"You were right," he said, shyly. "It's not worth the time."

"You didn't make the team then, did you?" said Tom.

"No, I didn't try out," said Lestrange, quickly. "I said you were right. It's pretty stupid."

"Do not fret," said Tom. "We will find other things for you to do. That's a promise."

Lestrange looked up at him with worry.

"I want you to feel important," Tom added quickly. "You are very useful to me, as is Avery. You both will always be my best ones. And I want you to know that."

Lestrange grinned.

* * *

"Ah Tom, come in," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the _Daily Prophet _newspaper and setting it down on his desk.

Tom closed the door behind him and crossed the office to sit across from Dumbledore. It was an ordinary Tuesday night in March and Tom had responded to Dumbledore's message to meet him in his office.

"Was everything alright with my Draconifors Spell essay, professor?" he asked, innocently.

"Oh, that," said Dumbledore, frowning. "Yes, yes it was very good. Top marks."

Tom nodded once.

"I...I called you here tonight Tom, to have a little chat."

"About what, sir?" said Tom, politely.

Dumbledore frowned.

"I've noticed that you have been spending a great deal of time with Mr. Avery and Mr. Lestrange."

"They are my friends, yes," said Tom.

"Not just your acquaintances anymore, then?" smiled Dumbledore.

"No sir, they are my friends," smiled Tom.

What was Dumbledore up to? What had brought on this interrogation? Was he really that worried about Tom? Why did he suspect him so much? He was the only person in this whole place who did not seem to like him.

"That's good, I'm glad," said Dumbledore finally. "Love and friendship after all are the most important things in the world. There is nothing worthier than the two...no kind of magic."

"Right," said Tom, trying hard not to scoff loudly.

"Alright then, Tom. Off you go," said Dumbledore.

"Good night, professor," said Tom, rising from the chair.

Just before he reached for the door handle however—

"Tom," said Dumbledore.

Tom turned and met his eye.

Dumbledore seemed to be contemplating what to say next. He had a puzzled expression in his eyes and his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

"Please stay away from the Restricted Section unless you are granted access by a professor," he finally said.

Tom stared at him. He hated the man so much. Those clear blue, accusatory eyes seemed to shout "I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE UP TO" and caused sweat to run down Tom's forehead, surprising him.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, before turning his back on Dumbledore.

Walking along the corridor, he willed his heart to stop beating so rapidly, but it wouldn't. He did not understand why he felt so tense every time Dumbledore was around. It's not like he was super important or anything.

After a rather dull herbology lesson the next day, wherein Professor Beery had the students revise Puffapods, Tom stopped short in the Entrance Hall at the sight of Professor Dippet shouting after a few running students.

"AND DON'T EVER LET ME SEE YOU DOING THAT AGAIN!" he bellowed after them as they disappeared from the hall, looking frightened.

"Professor Dippet," Tom greeted him.

"Ah, Tom," said Professor Dippet, wiping his forehead. "How are you?"

"Fine, sir," said Tom, staring off at the students. "What was that about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Ah, just some goofy 5th year Hufflepuffs who don't know how to respect the ghosts of this castle," said Professor Dippet, glaring at the direction in which the students ran off.

"Hmm," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"They are _prefects_, for goodness sake!" cried Professor Dippet, shaking his head. "'Supposed to set a good example for the rest!"

"In my opinion," said Tom, "More prefects who have their priorities straight are just what Hogwarts needs."

Professor Dippet nodded.

"That is," continued Tom, "Prefects who understand and abide by the rules, show excellent leadership skills and responsibility, and are inclusive of everyone in the school… students and staff, and ghosts and house-elves alike."

Professor Dippet turned to look at Tom with curiosity.

"_How_ did you know about the house elves?"

"Intuition," said Tom, smiling. "The food is always quite excellent. Only a house-elf could make it so."

"Isn't it?" laughed Professor Dippet. "Well, have a good one, Tom!"

And he was off.

Tom was the first to arrive at Potions that day, which was exactly how he'd planned it. He placed his bag on the table and slowly began to pull out his things.

"Tom, my boy!" cried Professor Slughorn when he came in through the door. "How are you today?"

"Fine, professor," said Tom, looking thoughtful. "I was just thinking about the four Hogwarts founders."

"Were you?" said Professor Slughorn, setting his briefcase on the table and straightening up his hat.

"Yes, professor," said Tom, frowning. "Isn't it fascinating to think that their descendants could be among us?"

"I'm sure they are, Tom," said Professor Slughorn brightly. "I'm sure they are."

"I would love to meet one," said Tom. "But I suppose it's rather difficult to find them."

"Yes," nodded Professor Slughorn. "Which founder are you most interested? Though, I feel I already know the answer…"

"Yes," laughed Tom. "Slytherin."

"Indeed," chuckled Professor Slughorn.

"Professor," said Tom as he slowly made his way around the desk and approached the teacher's table. "Do you happen to know the names of any of his relatives that might still be around today?"

Professor Slughorn thought for a minute.

"The name Gaunt comes to mind," he finally said, causing a manic gleam to erupt in Tom's face. He quickly hid it with a frown. "Yes, Gaunts…uh, let's see...there is a Morfin Gaunt. He is the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson of Slytherin, I believe."

"Yes," nodded Tom.

"He is said to live not far from Little Hangleton, just over the hill or something like that,"

The other students started to file into the classroom and Professor Slughorn busied himself with some sheets on his desk. But Tom had already gotten everything that he needed. As a way of thanking the professor for helping him so much, Tom participated the most during that day's lesson, and the other students watched him with fascination.

"And the Confusing Concoction, Tom?" said Professor Slughorn, amused.

Tom went on and on, reciting the many passages that he'd read in his Potions book over and over again. As he talked, he thought he noticed Emily Troops leaning to another Gryffindor girl, whispering, and giggling.

"…these plants are most efficacious in the inflaming of the brain, and are therefore much used in Confusing and Beffudlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness," concluded Tom.

"Marvelous!" cried Professor Slughorn, tears of joy gleaming in his eyes. "I think this deserves a solid 30 points for Slytherin house!"

The Gryffindors in the room groaned while the Slytherins patted each other on the back. They'd already tried that once before on Tom, but he only needed to give them one of his cold looks to tell them that they mustn't dare.

At the end of the lesson, as Tom gathered his things from the table, Emily passed by him, gave him a little smile, and said "Hi Tom," before running away, giggling with her Gryffindor friends. Avery and Lestrange were waiting for Tom in the doorway when he came out. Together, they headed out for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. However, on the way, they heard someone yelling after them.

"Oy, Riddle!" cried the apparently angry voice.

Tom, Avery, and Lestrange turned around to find Jonathan Buckley of Gryffindor, marching up to them with three friends. Tom turned to leave but Jonathan grabbed his arm.

"What do you think you're doing with my girlfriend?!" demanded Jonathan.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Tom.

"Oh, _I_ think you do!" spat Jonathan. Tom wrenched his arm free and glared at him.

"I THINK YOU'RE LYING!" cried Jonathan. "I'VE SEEN THE WAY YOU TWO STARE AT EACH OTHER IN CLASS. YOU'D BETTER STAY AWAY FROM HER."

"I wouldn't want your little girlfriend if she was the last witch on earth," said Tom, coolly.

Jonathan's little eyes widened.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH HER?!" he barked.

"Other than the fact that she is a filthy little mudblood, you mean?" said Tom.

Jonathan drew out his wand at the same time that Tom did, and the two stared at each other for a long time, each pointing their wand directly at the other's face.

"Go ahead," said Tom. "Do it."

Jonathan's hand began to tremble as he considered Tom.

"I dare you to," urged Tom. "_Do it_."

Jonathan lowered his wand.

"Let's get out of here," he said to his mates and they walked away.

"Cowards!" Lestrange called after them.

"Don't," said Tom, putting his arm in front of Lestrange to stop him. "Don't say that."

"But they are!" protested Lestrange.

"We'll teach them another way," said Tom, simply.

That very night, Lestrange and Avery followed Tom out of the Slytherin Common Room and all the way up to Gryffindor tower, where they instructed the sleeping Fat Lady to leave her frame, occupy another frame inside the Gryffindor common room, and tell Jonathan Buckley to step outside. After a few minutes of waiting, the portrait hole slid open and Jonathan climbed out. He glared at Tom for a few seconds, his hand gripping his wand inside his cloak pocket.

"Let's continue our conversation," said Tom.

He led the way to the Great Hall where they would duel. However, just as Jonathan turned his back on them, Tom pulled Avery and Lestrange to a corner and hid.

"Uh, guys?" said Jonathan, turning around and around. "W-where…where are you? Guys?! OY!"

Tom pulled out his wand, pointed it directly at Jonathan, and muttered _Stupify_. Jonathan was blasted backwards and hit the wall. Gasping, he scrambled to his feet and looked around frantically. _Petrificus Totalus_. Jonathan froze instantly and fell back. Beside Tom, Avery and Lestrange were roaring with laughter.

"That ought to teach him," said Tom, putting his wand away. "Come on, let's go to bed."

"We're just going to leave him here? Brilliant!" cried Avery, still laughing.

"He'll come to soon enough," said Tom, simply.

"THAT WAS BRILLIANT!" cried a voice from the corner of the hall.

The three wheeled around. Rosier. He was in their year, in Slytherin of course. He ran up to them, excited, and looked from the motionless Jonathan to the glaring Tom.

"ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!" he repeated.

Tom took a step towards him.

"Did you follow us here?" he said in a quiet voice.

Rosier's smile disappeared.

"I was going to tell on you for sneaking out but then I saw what you did to him. Could you teach me how to do that too?"

"You were going to tell on us?!" cried Avery. "YOU SNAKE!"

Lestrange pulled out his wand and pointed it in between Rosier's eyes, but Tom motioned for him to lower his wand, and after a moment's hesitation, he did. Tom watched Rosier for a few long minutes, and then grinned.

"No, he stays," he told Avery and Lestrange.

"But he's a snake!" cried Avery.

"So what?" said Tom. "I like snakes."

The end of the year arrived much too soon. Tom managed to win Slytherin the house cup yet again and received top marks in all his classes, but he was not ready to go back to that dreadful orphanage again. Just the thought of spending another two dull months there was sickening. He was pleased however with how far Avery and Lestrange had come along, and how useful Rosier was proving to be, for Rosier was something else. Rosier had an aptitude for dark arts. He enjoyed the art of brutality and had a laugh from watching others suffer. In some ways, he was Tom's favourite among the three.

As for Jonathan Buckley, he seemed to be afraid of Tom and never bothered him again.

On the last day of term, Tom was particularly quiet. He hated the idea of seeing Mrs. Cole and those worthless muggle children again. He wished that he would be able to visit Little Hangleton and look around for traces of his family members there, but knew that would not be possible. As he departed from King's Cross Station, Tom had a thought, and instead of going back to the orphanage, he went straight to Diagon Alley. Once there, he made his way to Flourish and Blotts and walked right up to the wizard behind the counter.

"Please, sir," he said to him, smiling kindly. "I live in a muggle orphanage and I really don't like being shut away from the magic world for two months each year. Could you please help me out?"

The wizard thought for a long time.

"Well, all I can do is let you shelve books for me for a few galleons a day,"

"I'll do it," said Tom.


	11. Fourth Year

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_"...Please, sir," he said to him, smiling kindly. "I live in a muggle orphanage and I really don't like being shut away from the magic world for two months each year. Could you please help me out?"_

_The wizard thought for a long time._

_"Well, all I can do is let you shelve books for me for a few galleons a day,"_

_"I'll do it," said Tom..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 11: FOURTH YEAR**

"Tom, will you please fetch the _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_ series for me?" said Mr. Q.

Tom put down the book that he had been examining (_The Jinxer and the Jinxed_) and went over to the corner shelf to fetch the 8 heavy books.

"Ah, thank you Tom," said Mr. Q as Tom stacked them on the counter.

Tom bowed to him and then returned to the book he had been reading.

It was August 17. Diagon Alley was fairly empty nowadays, though next week everyone would start to arrive to do their shopping. Tom was not keen on seeing anybody he knew, but since Mr. Q had given him this job and freed him from a dreadful summer at the orphanage, he did not want to lose it and so he did not complain.

Tom had earned quite a load of money over the summer, working at Flourish and Blotts. He did not open a vault at Gringotts Bank however. He did not trust them over there and so he always kept the money on hand. Even after buying all of his school things, Tom still had a fair bit of money left.

And so, as the boiling hot summer of 1941 drew to an end, Tom wasted no time in going to Borgin and Burke's down at Knockturn Alley. He thrust the sack of galleons in Borgin's face and then picked out the items that he had pinpointed in previous years. They included the cursed opal necklace, the poisonous candles, leering masks, and a new dark arts book titled _Magick Moste Evile_ by Godelot.

Back at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and the other children were on their best behaviour. They never bothered Tom which pleased him very much. Mrs. Cole had other things on her mind. There was a war going on in the Muggle World and so she spent most of her time monitoring it on the radios and muttering incoherently to herself. The children continued to live their worthless, unimportant lives as though they were not occasionally interrupted by bombings in Great Britain. Tom knew this did not affect the Wizarding World at all, and could not wait to return.

He boarded the Hogwarts Express on the first of September in great spirits and was soon joined in his compartment by Avery, Lestrange, and Rosier. They proceeded to tell stories about their summers while Tom read _Magick Moste Evile_. He wanted to show them the objects that he'd bought from Borgin, but decided that they were not yet ready. No matter, he would train them soon enough.

As the train drove through the countryside, Tom stumbled upon a passage in his reading which fascinated him very much:

_The Unforgivable Curses are three of the most powerful and sinister spells known to the wizarding world, and are tools of the Dark Arts. They were first classified as Unforgivable in 1717. They are the Imperius Curse (Imperio) which allows the castor to influence another without their knowledge, the Cruciatus Curse (Crucio) which allows the castor to inflict immense pain on another, and the killing curse (Avada Kedavra) which allows the castor to cause instant death to another. Collectively, these curses are classified as illegal by the Ministry of Magic and will land anyone in Azkaban Prison for life. _

Tom folded the corner of the page as the train pulled to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. He got off with his friends and boarded the carriages that rode them up to the castle. They entered the Great Hall and sat quietly during the Sorting Ceremony which ordered the many first-years into their houses. They ate the grand feast under the candle-lit ceiling, and then retreated to their house dormitories upon dismissal.

Tom called a meeting that night, and so after everyone else had gone to sleep, he stood to face Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, and their two newest members, Samuel Selwynn, and Thorfinn Rowle.

"Death Eaters," announced Tom. "We need a name and that name will be Death Eaters."

The four nodded comprehensively.

"You are not to reveal this name to anyone," Tom warned them.

"But why do we need a name, sir?" said Lestrange.

"Don't ever speak to me unless I speak to you," Tom glared at him.

Lestrange gulped loudly but did not say anything.

"We need a name," Tom continued, "To unify us. Now, go to bed. I will announce our next meeting when I feel it is necessary."

But their next meeting was not until late October and it took place in the Trophy Room on the sixth floor at 3 o'clock in the morning. Tom revealed his plan to his Death Eaters and they nodded in understanding. It would serve as a sort of test…to see how far they were willing to go. It was then that Tom would finally decide if he trusted them or not.

During Herbology the next day, as they listened to Professor Beery go on about Gillyweed, Lestrange waited for Tom's signal. Once Tom gave him the nod, Lestrange casually leaned over to Emily Troops of Gryffindor and whispered,

"I'd fancy visiting Hogsmeade with you next time."

"You want to go out with me?" exclaimed Emily in excited whispers.

"Sure," said Lestrange, grinning. "You're very pretty."

Emily blushed and giggled.

"I'd love to," she answered.

"Good," said Tom through the corner of his mouth, once Lestrange had sat up in his chair.

"Shall I go now?" said Rowle.

"NO!" hissed Tom. "You will go when I command you to!"

So Rowle waited. He waited until the end of the lesson. He waited all through lunch. It was not until they'd reached Potions and Professor Slughorn began to explain poison antidotes (which Tom already knew everything about), that Tom signaled Rowle and Rowle approached Anna Wood of Hufflepuff.

"Say, I'd fancy visiting Hogsmeade with you next time."

Anna raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think Jonathan would fancy that very much."

"Jonathan?!" exclaimed Rowle. "JONATHAN BUCKLEY? FROM GRYFFINDOR?"

"That's the one," said Anna, proudly. "So you'd better go before he sees you."

"I'm sure I can persuade him to allow this," Rowle insisted.

"Allow what?" said Anna, smirking.

"Mutual interaction," said Rowle, grinning.

Anna blushed.

"Oh Rowle, you are so bad!"

"You have no idea," said Rowle.

"Oh alright, well I suppose I could bump into you at Hogsmeade."

"I suppose you could."

He returned to his seat and flipped through the pages of his potions book.

"Excellent," muttered Tom, still watching Professor Slughorn at the board.

Later that day, Tom left his friends to go to the library and continue his search for the Chamber of Secrets. On the way there, he bumped into little Professor Flitwick.

"Hello, professor," said Tom, brightly.

"Ah, Tom!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "How are you, my boy?"

"Fine, thank you," said Tom.

"Good, good," said Professor Flitwick, walking away.

Before he turned the corner, Tom distinctly heard him mutter "Such a good boy".

Tom had no luck at the library that day, and returned to the Slytherin Common room feeling rather disappointed and frustrated. How was he to finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work, if he could not even locate the bloody chamber? He did not want to have to resort to searching every inch of the castle. There must be another way.

Tom spent most of his time in classes watching the other students, seeing as how he was already ahead of them in all the studies and saw no use in paying attention to the lessons. He'd never noticed before just how many muggle-born students were in his own year, let alone in the entire school. It was most disappointing. Exactly who did they think they were? It disgusted him, seeing them there, pretending to be something they obviously weren't. He would need to do something about it. But how? Finding the Chamber of Secrets proved to be a most difficult job and he couldn't think of another way to go about it. He would have to think of something very fast. He could not stand the smell of the mudbloods any longer.

On Saturday morning, Tom met with Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Rowle, and Selwynn in the Hog's Head, where they seated themselves in a booth and awaited the girls.

"You will do great," said Tom to the waiting boys.

"It better work," said Rosier, grimly.

Tom glared at him.

"You are a DEATH EATER," he spat. "MAKE IT WORK."

Rosier looked away.

Soon, the door to the bar opened with the clang of a bell and Anna and Emily joined the boys at the table.

"It's bloody cold out," said Anna, shivering slightly.

"Yes it is—oh, hi Tom," said Emily, blushing slightly. "I didn't know you would be here."

"Well, I'd fancy a hot drink before we went out," announced Anna.

"Anything for you," said Tom, snapping his fingers in the air for the barman.

Shortly after, the barman brought their drinks. Tom slipped some of the powder that he'd bought from Borgin into Anna's cup before handing it to her, as did Rosier with Emily's cup. They sipped the contents of the cups and listened as Lestrange told a rather steamy story about Goblins. When the bells in the distance began to ring noon, Tom started to watch Emily carefully. She had stopped smiling and was staring off into the distance. He leaned closer.

"Are you alright, Emily? You don't look well."

"What?" said Emily, jumping in her seat. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, sir."

Grinning, Tom motioned for her to follow him outside. The others followed them too. They took the back alleyway and met on the other side of the village. They stood in the snow, huddled together, with Tom at the centre.

"Emily," he said. "You are to go to the Three Broomsticks. Find Jonathan Buckley. Point your wand at him and say _crucio_."

Emily nodded in comprehension, her eyes unfocused.

"Anna," said Tom, narrowing his eyes at her. Her own eyes were very watery. Tom turned to Rosier.

"Did you put it in her cup?!" he demanded.

"I did, sir," said Rosier. "She drank it all."

"Fine then. Anna," said Tom. "Go to the Three Broomsticks, find Professor Flitwick, point your wand at him, and say _stupify_."

Anna nodded.

"Rowle," said Tom. "Go and keep an eye on the girls. Note the time that the effects start to wear off. I'll need to know for future reference."

Rowle nodded.

"Avery, Lestrange, go to the owlery and kill 5 owls. Bring their bodies back to me as evidence. The curse is _Avada Kedavra_. Repeat it."

"_Avada Kedavra_," they repeated.

"Good," said Tom.

"But…" began Avery, but catching Tom's eye, he quickly closed his mouth.

"And Rosier," said Tom, facing the boy whose hands were crossed and grin smeared. "You are to go to Honeydukes, find Professor Kettleburn who will no doubt be there, and perform _Expelliarmus_ on him."

Rosier's grin vanished and his hands dropped to his sides.

"I don't want to do this, sir," he said, quietly. "I—I don't w-want to…"

"Yeah, you never said anything about attacking _teachers_," said Avery, his voice trembling slightly, "_Sir_."

"You _will_ do this," declared Tom, "_Death Eater_."

Rosier hesitated for a moment, then nodded at the ground.

"Good," said Tom. "Go now. We will meet in the common room tonight to discuss the results."

And so the group went their separate ways.

Tom went ahead to Zonko's Joke shop and began to browse the shelves among the excited Hogwarts students that were there. The items in the shop were very dull and did not interest Tom one bit. But it was all part of his plan to be seen there, away from the crime scenes. And so, he bought the sugar quills and dungbombs anyway, as evidence that he had been there.

* * *

"I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED," barked Headmaster Dippet at dinner that night.

The whole of the Great Hall was silent as students stared down at their plates, looking frightened.

"I HAVE A LIST OF SUSPECTS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN BEHIND THIS," continued Dippet, "BUT I'D LIKE TO HEAR IT FROM THEM."

He pulled out a list and read the names aloud:

"Atticus Avery, Thornfinn Rowle, Samuel Selwynn, Evan Rosier, Rufus Lestrange."

The 5 boys got to their feet and followed Headmaster Dippet out of the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore then rose to his feet.

"Does anyone in here have any knowledge as to who might have bewitched Anna Wood and Emily Troops?"

The hall remained silent. Nobody moved or said a word.

"I should warn you," said Dumbledore, "That the culprit behind this will have to report to the Minister of Magic, as the curse that had been put on the two young ladies, was definitely illegal."

Tom looked up at Dumbledore. He was eyeing the Great Hall carefully.

"Very well then, off to bed now."

Everybody jumped from their seats and scrambled out of the Great Hall, gossiping about the events of the day. Tom went to the dungeons alone and sunk into an armchair in the corner of the Common Room, with _A History Of Magic_ open in his lap. He listened to the other Slytherins exchange false information regarding the day's events at Hogsmeade. When they tired of talking about it (at around midnight), they all went up to bed, leaving Tom alone in the common room. At half past 12, the Death Eaters climbed through the portrait hole and joined Tom on the couches. Tom stood up to face them.

"Well?"

"Well, nothing!" exclaimed Avery, happily.

"We got away with it," confirmed Lestrange.

"Good," said Tom, a small smile spreading on his face. "You did well. All of you."

The Death Eaters beamed at him.

They had passed the test. Tom could now officially trust them. And they were a good group of boys too. Rosier had a violent thirst for brutality. Avery was forever a loyal follower. Lestrange was extremely logical and a fast thinker. Rowle had some great nerve, having landed a teacher in the hospital, and Selwynn was very open-minded and resourceful. Combined, they made an acceptable group of followers.

The following morning, the entire school found out that Professors Flitwick and Kettleburn were in the hospital wing and all Charms and Care of Magical Creatures classes were cancelled for the next week. Poor Anna Wood and Emily Troops were sent to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London, along with Jonathan Buckley, who'd suffered a most horrifying fate. Tom worked hard to suppress a grin when Headmaster Dippet announced this at breakfast. It was a shame. Charms class was really starting to grow on Tom and now he would have to make-do without it for a week.

Tom knew that it wasn't safe to act again that year, for Professor Dumbledore watched him carefully everywhere he went. So, Tom called another meeting just after the Christmas Holidays and told his Death Eaters to lay low for a while and that they would resume their activities once everything calmed down.

The buzz of talk around the school was phenomenal. Everyone was in search of the "Secret Culprit", as they called it. No one knew who had been behind it. And Tom, being ever so clever, swore his Death Eaters to secrecy. They were too scared to dare saying a word to anyone. They knew perfectly well that Tom would not hesitate to use the _Avada Kedavra_ on them. He'd been _itching_ to try it out on someone, but did not want to go to Azkaban just yet.

"I know you did it," said a voice behind him as Tom walked along a corridor one spring morning.

The Bloody Baron was floating after him, cackling stupidly.

"Tommy was very naughty!"

"Shut up," Tom demanded. "Don't forget who you're talking to."

That shut the Bloody Baron right up as he froze right there and then. Tom walked away from him.

Anna and Emily returned to school that day and were surrounded by groups of students all day, all of them begging for information. But Anna and Emily kept quiet and did not say a word to anyone. They had become less cheerful than they had been before. Frightened, even. After a Transfiguration lesson, Tom followed Emily into the girls' bathroom on the third floor. She froze at the sight of him standing behind her and backed away into a corner.

"What are you doing here?!" she cried, frightfully.

"Checking," said Tom. "I wanted to remind you that you are not to reveal anything to anyone."

"I haven't!" cried Emily. "I won't!"

"And your little friend?"

"Anna won't either! I promise! WE promise. Please, just don't do that again. I really don't want to hurt anybody."

Tom scowled at her.

"You are pathetic," he said, coolly. "You don't appreciate the Dark Arts at all."

He turned to leave, but just then, something caught his eye. He turned around to look at one of the sinks. The tap had a sort of carving on it. Tom came closer to it and squinted his eyes, examining it. It was a snake. A very green snake.

Ignoring Emily's frightful cry, Tom left the bathroom. Though, his mind was now racing as he walked along the corridors. This was it! He had found it! And somehow, he knew exactly how to open it. He had to admit that it was very clever, hiding it in there. No one, not even he, would have thought to look there. And the snake itself was barely visible to the untrained eye.

Tom thought about trying it out this year, but seeing as how exams were scheduled for the very next week, he didn't see any sense it in. It would just have to wait until later. But next year, _next year_, he would surely do it.

Slytherin won the house cup again that year, and Tom achieved top marks in all of his exams again. Headmaster Dippet personally congratulated him on this and waved him off as he boarded the train back to London. Another summer in the muggle world. What fun. But it didn't really bother Tom this time. He was very excited to plan for all the glorious things that the Death Eaters would do the following year. Just thinking about how pure the blood in the castle would be brought him such tremendous joy.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey Readers, I hope you are enjoying the story. Because Tom's fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts were the most crucial ones, I've decided to separate them into several chapters each. The next chapter in the story is called "Prefect" and will be published in about a week. I feel that I need to take some time to plan it out carefully because so much happens and I want to get it right, so please be patient. Thanks!**

**Finally, we're getting to the good parts with lots of action!**


	12. Prefect

**Author's Note: I ran into a sudden wave of inspiration and ended up writing these chapters quicker than I thought. Here they are, chapters 12, 13, and 14, two days early. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...He was very excited to plan for all the glorious things that the Death Eaters would do the following year. Just thinking about how pure the blood in the castle would be brought him such tremendous joy..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 12: PREFECT**

Tom stared at the silver badge that had fallen out of the envelope. It gleamed as he rotated it around in his fingers, and it seemed to shout at him "DIPPET PITIES YOU!". Tom scowled as he thrust the stupid badge back into the envelope and sat on the bed.

"_He only gave it to you because he feels bad for you_," said a voice in his head. "_Poor, innocent orphan who doesn't have anyone or anything."_

_"__No, he gave it to you because you are the best at everything,"_ said another voice. "_You have top marks in all of your classes and are at the very top of your year."_

_"__Whatever the reason, you don't want this,"_ said the first voice. "_It's stupid and not worth your time._"

"_Wrong again,"_ cackled the second voice. "_You have all the time in the world. You don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, and just imagine all the power you'll have with such a position around the school._"

"True," said Tom aloud to the empty room.

It was mid August. Tom had spent the summer helping Mr. Q at _Flourish and Blotts_ for a little more pay this time. He'd quit just the day before however, for Hogwarts students would be doing their shopping that week and he didn't want anyone finding out that he had worked there. But the Hogwarts letter that he was now holding in his hand was not the only bit of post that he'd gotten that summer.

Avery and Lestrange had written to him just the week before and they'd made plans to meet up at the ice cream shop in Diagon Alley. It wouldn't be safe meeting at Knockturn Alley, for passerby-ers would probably assume that they were up to no good. And with last year's events still fresh in everybody's minds, Tom didn't think it wise attracting more attention to them.

Mrs. Cole and the other orphans did not bother him at all that summer, though he still resented the place with a passion. There wasn't much to do except think and plan. There was a small incident at the start of July when Mrs. Cole had tried moving Tom to one of the rooms upstairs, but he absolutely refused. Billy had interrupted Mrs. Cole's speech and suggested that Tom would be more comfortable in his own space in the basement. Tom was a little impressed with Billy's nerve, though knew perfectly well that he was only doing this to spare Mrs. Cole the pain that Tom would surely inflict on her if she bothered him more. Still, it was nicely played.

Tom appeared at Diagon Alley the following Tuesday at noon. He quickly did his shopping and then spotted Avery and Lestrange sitting at a table outside the ice cream shop, looking pretty grim. Tom approached them and, upon noticing him, they quickly got to their feet and bowed their heads.

"Let's go," Tom instructed, and he led the way to the back of _Quality Quidditch Supplies_. Looking around once to check that they were not being eavesdropped on, he leaned in to whisper. "What did you say his name was?"

"Davis," answered Lestrange in a low voice. "He's in Slytherin."

"Why haven't I seen him before?" said Tom.

"You have, he's that fourth year who's always studying by the fireplace, you know," said Avery. "But he's brilliant!" he quickly added.

"How so?" said Tom.

"He's the best in his year," said Lestrange. "And he's vindictive to Gryffindors."

"Rosier is vindictive," said Tom. "I do not need this Davis."

"Trust me, sir, you do," said Lestrange. Tom raised an eyebrow. "Uh, I j-just mean…t-that…you ought t-to meet him…s-sir."

Tom did not speak for a long time. He wondered whether meeting this stranger would be worth his time at all. Then, spotting Emily Troops' mother walking into the shop with her, he quickly nodded and motioned for the group to part ways.

Just before leaving that day, however, Tom decided to pay Borgin a visit. He bought a few more leering masks and some more of that Imperius powder, then turned to leave. Just before descending from Knockturn Alley, however, a shop caught his eye: _Moribund's_. He did not think he had noticed that shop before. He had been to all the other shops at Knockturn Alley. This must have been a new addition. Curious, he let himself in and looked around.

The shop very much resembled Borgin and Burke's, though it was exceedingly darker and more packed with books of all shapes and sizes. The wizard behind the counter muttered a hello and went back to pouring candle wax into a cauldron. Tom browsed some of the shelves until he found something particularly interesting; _The Immortals Among Us_. Glancing at his watch once, he noticed that it was time to go back to the orphanage. He quickly bought the book, stuffed it in his bags, and hurried out of Knockturn Alley. He took extra care in making sure that no one saw him come out of there. After all, he was now a prefect and he could really use this new reputation to his advantage.

Tom boarded the Hogwarts Express a week later feeling rather confident about the eventful year ahead. He'd instructed Avery to extend an invitation to this Davis character to join them in their compartment. After the food trolley came around, Davis showed up. Tom took a second to examine him before motioning for him to sit down. The boy was of about Tom's height and had very dark hair and virtually black eyes. He did not look at all to be a year younger. In fact, he was very well-built and looked to be very intellectual.

"Do you play Quidditch?" Tom asked, slowly.

"I do, sir," said Davis.

Avery must have warned him ahead of time to address Tom in that way.

"Why?" breathed Tom.

"I like the flying," said Davis, "Not the game."

"Not the game?" repeated Tom, more slowly.

"That's right, sir," said Davis. "I like the feel of the wind when I race through it."

"I see," said Tom, thoughtfully. "You don't think of it as a complete waste of your time?"

"No, sir," said Davis, confidently. "There is nothing that brings me more joy than to knock a Gryffindor off of their broomstick every now and then."

A sick smile spread across Tom's pale face.

"Have you heard of the unforgivable curses, Davis?" he asked him.

"I have, sir," said Davis.

"Have you tried them?"

"No, sir."

"You _will_ try them," declared Tom.

"When you command me to, sir."

The boy was telling Tom everything he wanted to hear, but Tom was very wary of letting him into his ranks easily. He eyed the boy carefully.

"Why do you want to join us?" he asked.

"Avery told me that you are the Heir of Slytherin."

"Did he?" said Tom, glaring at Avery who looked very frightened.

"Yes, well I happen to know that Slytherin hated mudbloods," continued Davis. "And so do I. I absolutely detest their smell. So I'm guessing that, being Slytherin's heir, you will take it upon yourself to do something about the current situation in our school."

"And what makes you so sure?" said Tom, still watching Avery.

"You don't strike me as the type to sit there and do nothing," said Davis. "Sir," he quickly added.

"We'll see how you do on your test," Tom declared, finally looking away from Avery and turning to Davis. "And then we'll go from there."

Davis nodded.

"You may go," said Tom.

Davis got to his feet, bowed, and left the compartment. Tom fumbled around in his bag for his wand and then instructed Avery to stand up.

"I…P-please…I d-didn't m-mean t-t-to, i…"

"UP," spat Tom.

Avery stood up on trembling feet and squeezed his eyes shut. The others in the compartment shifted around in their seats uncomfortably, though Rosier sat back and watched with a gleam on his face. Tom pointed his wand directly at Avery and watched him curl into a ball on the floor and bite his tongue so as not to scream at the pain.

The start-of-year feast was the same as usual. After the Sorting Ceremony, the students dined under the candle-lit ceiling and amongst excited conversations recounting summer activities. Several new Slytherins had joined the table. Half way through the feast, Professor Kettleburn called all the prefects for a brief meeting to tell them that it was their job to guide the first years to their houses and explain the school rules to them. It was also their job to confiscate illegal items, report to teachers if there were any problems, and so on.

And so, as Headmaster Dippet wished everyone a good year, Tom rose from his seat and motioned for the 17 frightened first-year Slytherins to follow him. Just before he could escape the traffic of the Great Hall exit however, Professor Dumbledore stopped him.

"Good evening, Tom," he said, brightly. "How was your summer?"

"It was fine, professor, and yours?" said Tom, mechanically.

"Oh it was pretty dull," said Dumbledore, casually. "I dare say a little excitement would cheer me up. You know, some extraordinary event."

"I understand what you mean, sir," said Tom.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment.

"I see that you've made prefect status," he beamed. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," said Tom, bowing his head once.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it," said Dumbledore, "and the many things that it offers."

"Sir?" said Tom.

"Good night, Tom," said Dumbledore, smiling again.

He left.

_He was onto him_, thought Tom as he led the first-year Slytherins to the dungeons. But how could he be? It was impossible. There was no way that he could know what Tom was planning. Not even the Death Eaters knew, and now that Tom understood how unreliable Avery was, it was very unlikely that they would find out anytime soon.

Just before turning the corner, Tom bumped into a really tall, heavy figure.

"Watch where you're going!" He called after it.

"S-s-sorry!" called the figure in a low voice.

Tom stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared at it. The little first-years anxiously looked around.

"Hey!" called Tom. "Come back here!"

The figure stopped abruptly and turned around.

"What?" it said.

"Come here," demanded Tom..

Hesitating slightly, the figure approached him. It was very tall indeed and had long black hair.

"Who are you?" said Tom, narrowing his eyes.

"M-my name is, uh, Rubeus Hagrid," said the figure.

"Are you a Gryffindor?" said Tom, glancing at the red and yellow tie on the giant's front.

"Uh, yessir," said Hagrid.

"Then what are you doing in this side of the castle?"

"I...I was jus' explorin'," said Hagrid.

"Really?" Tom was not amused. "How old are you? Why are you so giant?"

"I'm a third-year," said Hagrid. "And who are you?"

"I'm a prefect," said Tom, raising an eyebrow. "Go back to your side of the castle, _giant_."

Hagrid frowned at Tom for a moment, and then descended from the corridor. Tom led the first-years into the Slytherin Common room and gathered them around in a circle.

"The boys' dormitories are over there and the girls' are over there, any questions?" said Tom, glancing at his watch. It was almost time for bed which meant the other Slytherins would be arriving soon.

"When do we get our schedules for classes?" asked a quiet, dark-haired boy in the back.

"Tomorrow at breakfast, any other questions?" said Tom.

"How do we-"

"Alright then, off to bed!" called Tom, dismissing the group without a glance at the boy he'd just cut off.

Tom took his copy of _The Immortals Among Us_ and sat in an armchair by the window, waiting. As the minutes ticked away, more and more Slytherins arrived in the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Some stayed there while others went straight to bed. When Avery, Lestrange and Rosier arrived, they went their separate ways. Selwynn was apparently discussing something with Professor Beery and Rowle was sulking by the fireplace.

Finally, at half past twelve, the common room emptied. Only Tom and the Death Eaters were left. They gathered around the fireplace and welcomed Davis, their newest member.

"You are not yet part of the group," Tom reminded him. "You must first demonstrate to me your skills."

"I'll do whatever you want, sir," said Davis.

"Good," said Tom. "If you mean that, then tomorrow you will sneak off to Hogsmeade and get us Butterbeers from the Three Broomsticks."

"But I-"

"-will be happy to obey me?" said Tom, smiling. "Good, I knew you'd be. Dismissed."

Davis got to his feet, bowed, and retreated to his dormitory.

"He won't do it, Tom," said Rosier as he sat back on the couch and pulled his feet up on the coffee table. Tom raised an eyebrow at the sound of his name being said.

"Oh come on," said Rosier. "Don't you think we've proven our loyalty to you? Can't we be a little less formal, _sir_?"

"_I_ decide that, Rosier," said Tom.

Rosier shrugged.

"Now," said Tom, addressing the rest of the group. "Go to bed. I'll announce the next meeting."

"Sir?" said Rowle as the boys stood up. "What's the plan for this year? Have you thought of anything yet?"

"Go to sleep, Rowle," instructed Tom, and he did.

Once back in his dormitory, Tom changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, but did not sleep for hours. It seemed that his Death Eaters were getting out of control...loosening up. He could not allow it. WOULD not allow it. They must be put in their place. They need clarification that he, soon to be named Lord Voldemort, is in charge. Smiling slightly at the brilliant name he'd crafted over the summer, Tom rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be the start of the rest of his life.


	13. The Chamber of Secrets

**Author's Note: Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...It seemed that his Death Eaters were getting out of control...loosening up. He could not allow it. WOULD not allow it. They must be put in their place. They need clarification that he, soon to be named Lord Voldemort, is in charge. Smiling slightly at the brilliant name he'd crafted over the summer, Tom rolled over in his bed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would be the start of the rest of his life..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 13: THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS**

The following morning, Tom waited in the Common Room for the first-years to gather around so that he could escort them to the Great Hall for breakfast. Avery, Lestrange, Rowle, Rosier, Selwynn, and Davis wanted to wait with him but he'd instructed them to get out of his sight as quickly as possible. So, at a quarter to 9, Tom finally entered the Great Hall, with a crowd of first-year Slytherins following closely behind him.

"Excuse me!" squeaked a girl from the crowd. Tom turned to look at her.

"Where is the girls' bathroom?"

"I don't know, figure it out," Tom told her.

A few skimpy Gryffindors in his year laughed. Ignoring them, Tom made his way over to the Slytherin table and sat with an open copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_. After breakfast, Tom headed off to Care of Magical Creatures without his 'friends', and then again to Charms. All day, the Death Eaters kept trying to accompany him but everytime they got close, Tom managed to slip away again. He preferred to be by himself today...to watch from a distance...to _observe_ what the Death Eaters did when he was not around. To his relief, they did not do much. They mostly scowled and whispered amongst themselves if any of them knew when the next meeting was.

Later that week, in a hushed conversation during Professor Slughorn's lecture on strengthening solutions, Tom provided new information.

"Our next meeting will be this Saturday night."

"Trophy room?" said Rosier.

"Yes," said Tom. "Be there at 1."

"Tom!" called Professor Slughorn.

"Yes, sir?" said Tom.

"Can you please help us out and name at least two ingredients needed to brew a strengthening solution?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom, glancing once at Rosier to be quiet. "They are salamander blood and powdered Griffin claw."

"Excellent!" cried Professor Slughorn. "Very good, indeed!"

Tom gave him a small smile.

After the lesson, Tom descended from the potions room and made his way over to Transfiguration when a fifth-year Gryffindor he didn't know bumped him.

"Watch where you're going, Riddle!" he shouted.

Tom stopped in the corridor to watch as the boy continued to walk down the hall. He'd seen him around. Keith something... _No matter_, Tom thought to himself. He'd take care of it later.

"Tom?" said Professor Dumbledore, who was standing outside his door. "Are you coming in?"

"Yes, professor," said Tom, turning away from where the boy had disappeared. "My apologies, professor."

"Not at all," said Dumbledore, holding the door open for him.

Tom sat at a table at the front and opened his book without a glance at any of the other students in the class. The Slytherins had transfiguration with the hufflepuffs that year. The Death Eaters were sitting at the back of the class but Tom ignored them.

"Won't you sit with your friends, Tom?" said Dumbledore, frowning at Tom's choice for a seat.

"I'm good here, professor," said Tom blankly.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, moving to the front and now addressing the class. "Today, we will be talking about the Doubling Charm, which is more commonly known as the Gemino Curse. Can anyone in here tell me the history of the Gemino Curse?"

No one offered an explanation. Somewhere in the back, an ink bottle crashed to the floor and splattered everywhere. Sighing, Dumbledore flicked his wand at it and it repaired and restored itself on the desk.

"Thanks," said a Hufflepuff girl, shyly.

"Not at all," said Dumbledore, smiling. He scanned the room. "No one knows?"

Tom flipped the page of his book casually as he was not paying attention to Dumbledore at all. Noticing this, Dumbledore approached his desk.

"What about you, Tom?"

Tom looked up, surprised.

"Sir?"

"Can you tell us the history of the Gemino Curse? It _is_ afterall in that book that you're always carrying."

"Of course, sir," said Tom, straightening up. "The Doubling Charm was invented by twin witches Helixa and Syna Hyslop. They used it to create duplicates of every item inside their home. After they died, their relatives finally discovered this charm because the twins had each left behind a set of detailed instructions on how to use it."

"Very good," nodded Dumbledore, pausing. "Five points to Slytherin."

Tom stared at him. Dumbledore went over to the board and began to write as the class copied down the notes. Tom continued to stare at him. This was the first time in all his years at Hogwarts that Tom had been awarded house points by Dumbledore. _What _was he up to? Nervous slightly, Tom quickly copied down what Dumbledore had written and spent the rest of the class staring at him...watching his every movement.

* * *

"We just don't think it's a very good idea, sir," said Rowle, in a small, worried voice.

"Yeah, it's not that we don't want to do it," offered Selwynn. "It's...it's just that...we think we will get caught."

"A-and...l-l-last t-time we almost...d-did get caught-t," added Avery, without meeting Tom's eye.

Tom stared at them blankly.

It was Saturday night and the group was sitting on the floor in the Trophy Room, having their second Death Eater meeting. Tom had begun explaining their next move when the boys had interrupted him and began to protest.

"I don't care," he said to them now. "I did not recruit a group of first-year _girls_."

"But-"

"_Lestrange_," Tom's voice went cold. "You will do what I command you to."

Lestrange went pale.

"I promised you all that I would rid the school of every piece of filth, did I not?" Tom said to the group. The boys looked away from him and, Tom noticed, they carefully avoided each other's gaze too. "Need I remind you that I am the Heir of Slytherin, _your_ forefather?"

"Yes, sir," said Davis, the new one. "We understand, and...t-that's exactly what we want...t-to get r-rid of them m-m-mudbloods."

"Good," Tom told him. "And that also reminds me, I have your task ready for you."

He passed Davis a clean white envelope. Davis bowed before taking it. He carefully ripped it open and examined the sheet that Tom had placed inside. Tom watched his face tighten as he read the instructions. Davis looked up at Tom with wide eyes.

"Any questions?" Tom asked him, simply.

"No," said Davis, almost robotically. "I understand."

"Very good," said Tom. "Dismissed."

The boys got their feet and one-by-one, they exited the room, carefully checking around corners for any teachers. Tom waited until they were gone, and then pulled out his wand and ran his fingers along it. He waited for a long time, sitting alone in the Trophy Room and thinking about Davis' task and wondering whether he would actually go through with it. Tom would be most impressed if he did and if he managed it successfully.

He cracked open the book that he'd bought from Knockturn Alley-_The Immortals Among Us_\- and carelessly flipped through its pages. He glanced curiously at a page about souls and frowned at a term he did not seem to recognize: Horcrux. He searched the book for its meaning but could not find it anywhere. Horcrux. It sounded like a very fascinating sort of Dark Art. Pity he had no way of finding out its meaning.

At about 3 in the morning, Tom rose to his feet, exited the Trophy Room, and slowly made his way down the corridors, lighting them up with the tip of his wand. He was careful not to shine the light at any of the sleeping portraits. He reached the girls' bathroom in no time, and checking around the corners twice, he let himself in. He approached the sink with the carved snake on it, and glanced around the room. There was no handle anywhere or anything that suggested entry. But somehow, Tom already knew what he had to do. Pocketing his wand, he straightened up and said, very quietly, "Allow your heir in," in Parseltongue.

The sink separated itself from the other sinks which had now begun to rise in the air and spread apart. Tom waited. Once the process was complete, he examined the results. Where there had been 8 sinks closed together, there was now a large black hole (like a tunnel). Without hesitation, Tom pulled out his wand and climbed into the hole.

"Lumos," he said, lighting up the dark tunnel.

It was at least a full hour before Tom reached the end of the tunnel and came across a sort of vault door with several snakes carved on its front. In Parseltongue again, he instructed it to open and it did. He let himself in, climbed down from the ladder, and looked around.

It was the most beautiful corridor he had ever seen. Illuminated by green light on all sides, large snake statues sat with their slippery tongues stretched out. There was water everywhere of course, as he was well below the school grounds and the pipes all seemed to lead there. The air was stiff and very ancient, like no one had been there in thousands of years. At the very end of the hall however, was the grand statue of Salazar Slytherin, watching him.

"Hello, father," Tom said to it, in Parseltongue. He approached the statue, now pocketing his wand again. "It is I, your heir, at your service."

The statue stared at him.

"Please, father," hissed Tom. "I've come to finish your work. Show me this monster that you've buried here."

The mouth of the statue began to expand, creating a very large hole. Soon, a slithering thing crawled out of it, hissing very loudly. Its bulging yellow eyes looked murderous, but Tom beamed at it. He knew that it would not attack him. This monster, this gorgeous basilisk, was at _his_ service. He had done it. At long last, Tom had opened the Chamber of Secrets.

He spent the next couple of hours exploring the chamber thoroughly and getting to know it for its every detail. Finally, he glanced at his watch and noticed that breakfast would start in about a half hour. Tom quickly gave the basilisk instructions on when best to attack. It bowed to him and Tom made his way out of the chamber and sealed it again.

"If I may ask, where were you this morning, sir?" asked Lestrange as he joined Tom at the Slytherin Table in the Great Hall 40 minutes later.

"Busy," said Tom, simply, as he began pouring himself pumpkin juice. "Have you spoken with Davis?"

"Yes, sir," said Lestrange, after a moment's silence. "He said he will do it."

"Good," nodded Tom. "I look forward to it."

Lestrange was quiet for the remainder of breakfast. Even after Avery and the others joined them, he just kept to himself, as did Tom.

Glancing up at the staff table, Tom spotted Dumbledore watching him again, and smiled brightly at him whilst imagining his head on a stick.

Later that week, whilst the Slytherins were copying down Professor Flitwick's notes on silencing charms, there was a loud commotion out in the hall. The students jumped from their desks and followed little Flitwick out of the classroom to see what had happened. A second-year Gryffindor girl was sprawled on the floor, bleeding heavily from her stomach. She was apparently unconscious, though her body was trembling on the floor and there were tears in her eyes. Professor Flitwick squeaked for some students to go and get Headmaster Dippet and the nurse. Tom stared at the girl, wondering what sort of spell Davis had used. He scanned his memory, his head flipping pages through books he'd read thousands of times. Students all around shrieked and some began to cry at the sight of the poor girl. Professor Flitwick even knelt down beside her and repeated that help was coming.

At long last, Tom's brain had landed on a counter-curse that he'd read in one of his books. Without thinking, he took out his wand, pointed it at the girl, and muttered under his breath. The gash wounds began to magically heal themselves and the blood that had oozed out of the girl was making its way back into her veins. Professor Flitwick gasped and watched with complete shock as Tom proceeded with the spell. By the time that Headmaster Dippet and the school nurse had arrived at the scene, all the blood was gone and the girl had stopped trembling.

"She's still breathing!" cried the nurse as she bent down to examine her.

"TOM!" cried Professor Dippet. "You...how...you...when did you, when did you, _when did you!"_

"It's alright sir, I'm just glad I could help," said Tom, smiling softly.

Professor Dippet put an arm around his shoulder and exclaimed. All the other professors had rushed to the scene as well and were one-by-one congratulating Tom on his achievement. The girl was picked up and carried off to the hospital wing. The surrounding students began to applaud Tom who merely nodded and proceeded to his next class...Potions. When he got there, he took the seat next to Davis and opened up his books.

"That was absolutely splendid!" Professor Slughorn beamed at him. He practically had tears in his eyes. "Such beautiful, advanced magic from only a fifth-year! My goodness, boy, you will go very far indeed."

Tom did not say anything. Everyone else in class was still talking about it an hour later.

"My goodness," Professor Slughorn kept on repeating throughout the lesson, and giving Tom the thumbs-up.

Tom leaned in to Davis.

"Well done," he told him.

"Thank you, sir," said Davis.

He had officially passed the test and was now a Death Eater.

During lunchtime that day, Tom was reading about the giant wars of the nineteenth century over a bowl of mushroom soup when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He casually turned around, then jumped from his seat and straightened up.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," he said, bowing his head.

"Good day, Tom," said Dumbledore. "I was wondering...could I have a word with you?"

"Of course, professor," answered Tom.

"After you've finished your breakfast, of course," Dumbledore added sweetly.

"That's quite alright, I can talk now," said Tom.

"Very well then. Why don't we go into my office; it'll be more private there," said Dumbledore.

Nodding once, Tom gathered his books into his bag and followed Dumbledore out of the Great Hall. Some of the Gryffindors turned their heads to stare as the two exited the hall, but Tom ignored them. They walked along the corridors in silence and reached Dumbledore's office in no time.

"Come in, Tom, come in," said Dumbledore, closing the door behind him. "Sit down."

Tom took a seat at the desk and Dumbledore sat across from him.

"Is everything alright, professor?" said Tom, feigning worry.

"Oh yes, everything is fine," said Dumbledore. "I just wanted to have a little chat with you about today's events."

"Sir?"

"The incident with poor Sasha Timmons of Gryffindor," Dumbledore clarified.

"Ah," said Tom, nodding. "Yes, it was horrible."

"Indeed it was," said Dumbledore. "I was just really fascinated with how you were able to cure her so quickly."

"Honestly, most of it was just luck," lied Tom. "I'd come across the counter-curse for a jinx that sounded a lot like what Timmons had suffered in one of my books."

"That's what I thought," nodded Dumbledore. He paused and frowned for a second, then met Tom's eye. "Do you happen to know who could have attacked poor Sasha?"

"I do not, sir," said Tom. "But I imagine they will be punished severely if they are caught?"

"_When_, not _if_," said Dumbledore.

"Of course, sir," said Tom.

"And yes," continued Dumbledore. "They will absolutely be expelled and lose their wand as well."

"I think that's a fair punishment," agreed Tom.

"So no idea at all?" said Dumbledore, ignoring Tom's replies. He was eyeing him even more carefully now.

"No," said Tom, innocently. "As a prefect, it is my duty to report any information that I have on anybody who commits such crimes, and I'm sorry to say that I have no information to offer on this particular incident."

"And what about other incidences?"

Tom frowned.

"Sir?"

But Dumbledore sat quietly for a long time. There was a miniature staring contest going on between him and Tom, and Tom was careful not to blink. Then, Dumbledore leaned forwards and lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper.

"The other professors wouldn't want me telling you this, Tom," he began, "But I feel that it is necessary. There has been another incident. A muggle-born student from Gryffindor was attacked just last night. They are now lying in the hospital wing, petrified. We do not know how this happened but we do have our suspicions."

"I haven't heard anything about this second attack, professor," Tom said.

"Yes, that's because we've tried to keep it quiet for now," said Dumbledore. "No need to worry the students, you know?"

"Yes," said Tom, nodding. He tried to put together a look of concern but it was just too bloody hilarious.

"So you haven't seen anything suspicious going on? We have reason to believe that the perpetrator was a Slytherin."

Tom pretended to be lost in thought, and then met Dumbledore's eye.

"I honestly have not, professor, but I wouldn't mind keeping an eye out on my fellow housemates and report to you if I find anything out of the ordinary."

"Yes, thank you, Tom," said Dumbledore, who was now leaning back in his chair. He looked to be rather disappointed with Tom's answer. "I do hope we can find the culprit soon. I would hate for the students of Hogwarts to feel unsafe. It has become a home for many, much like for you, Tom."

"Yes," said Tom.

Dumbledore paused.

"Do you like it here, Tom?"

"I love it here, professor," said Tom, wondering why Dumbledore was interrogating him.

"I am happy to hear that, Tom, I really am."

Tom gave him a small smile. Dumbledore was such a sucker for love and kindness.

"Very well then, you may go."

"Good day, professor," said Tom, and he gathered his book bag and made to leave the room. Just before he'd reached the door handle however, he stopped and turned to look at the professor again.

"I was just wondering, sir," he said, cautiously levelling his voice to hide the excitement, "Which student was petrified?"

"Keith Williams," Dumbledore answered, sadly.

"Oh that's awful, I know him," said Tom.

"Yes, he is in your year. Such a terrible thing," said Dumbledore.

Once he was out in the corridor, Tom could feel sweat on his forehead and became very aware of how fast his heart was beating. Why did this happen every single time he was interrogated by Dumbledore? He was only an old man, after all. He was hardly a danger to Tom. Besides, Tom had not been directly responsible for the attack on Sasha Timmons. It had been Davis' way of proving his loyalty to the group. If anybody was going to be caught for this attack, it was going to be Davis. But what had happened to Keith Williams was music to Tom's ears. The basilisk was on the move. And he could not see how Dumbledore or anybody else would be able to trace this back to him. Still, the very idea of being interrogated by Dumbledore sent waves of dizziness to Tom's head and he stopped and leaned against a pillar, gasping for breath.

_He's onto you_, a voice told him. _Best be careful_.

_Don't worry_, Tom answered it, now straightening up and wiping sweat from his forehead, _I will be._


	14. Dumbledore's Warning

**Author's Note: Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

...He's onto you_, a voice told him. _Best be careful.

Don't worry,_ Tom answered it, now straightening up and wiping sweat from his forehead, _I will be...

* * *

**CHAPTER 14: DUMBLEDORE'S WARNING**

The next couple of months seemed to fly by. Tom attended all his classes as usual and, as usual, excelled at every task. The Death Eater meetings were more frequent and Davis had turned out to be an excellent addition to the group. Tom's prefect status was also granting him a lot of respect from others and so he was in great spirits. The rest of the school however, was not.

There had been several more attacks on muggle-born students, which got out by word of mouth. The whole school was now frightened to death. By Christmas, the hospital wing was crowded with petrified students, most of whom happened to be in Gryffindor. Not all the students who had been attacked were muggle-born, however. Tom had made a few exceptions, and their names were Emily Troops, Anna Wood, and Jonathan Buckley.

On the next Hogsmeade weekend, Tom and the Death Eaters went to the Three Broomsticks and took a seat at one of the booths. The Chamber of Secrets and the attacks on the muggle-borns were all anyone around them could talk about.

"I bet it's someone in Slytherin who's behind all this!" hissed a hufflepuff boy in the booth next to theirs.

Tom strained his ears to listen.

"It's probably one of those creepy ones," said another. "You know the ones... they...they attacked Emily, Anna, and Jonathan last year."

"Yeah!" the others agreed.

"My money is on that Rosier bloke," said a confident boy who Tom recognized to be his own year. "There's something seriously off about him."

"I do hope they catch the culprit soon," said the worried girl sitting next to him.

It was because of these mysterious attacks that nearly everybody went home for the Christmas holidays. Tom had specifically instructed his Death Eaters to go home too, for he didn't want Dumbledore growing even more suspicious than he already was. The only other students that had stayed at school for the holidays were a couple of Ravenclaw fourth-year girls, two Hufflepuff sixth-year boys, and that third-year giant Hagrid from Gryffindor. Tom kept a close eye on him all throughout Christmas dinner. The giant ate by himself, walked by himself, and studied by himself. Always. This was most peculiar to Tom, as he didn't know anyone else, besides himself, who was so independent.

Tom practiced his summoning charm in the common room that night. He was the only Slytherin who had stayed behind, so he had the common room all to himself. After a while, he got bored and decided to take a walk. He did not dare going to the Chamber of Secrets now. He knew that Dumbledore would be watching him more closely so he kept his distance and went about innocent tasks like studying or usual prefect duties.

Turning the corner from out of the dungeons, Tom came to a halt. There he was, the giant Hagrid, standing at the end of the corridor, apparently trying to get into a room. Tom hid behind a wall and watched him closely. Hagrid let himself in and closed the door quickly behind him. Without thinking, Tom marched up to the door and flung it open. Hagrid, who had been hovering over a big black trunk, jumped a few feet back, with his wand pointing shakily at the door.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he cried.

"I might ask you the same question, Hagrid," said Tom, calmly. "What brings you to this corridor? Last time I checked, you weren't in Slytherin."

"I…" said Hagrid, moving in front of the trunk. "I told you, didn't I? I was just explorin'."

"Hmm," said Tom, nodding. "What's in the trunk?"

"Nothin'!" cried Hagrid.

Tom let out a small chuckle.

"Relax, Hagrid," he said. "I'm not going to tell on you. I'm just being curious."

"You—you're not?" said Hagrid, lowering his wand.

"No," shrugged Tom. "I have better things to do."

"But…but you're a—a prefect," said Hagrid.

"Yes, but I'm also a fifth-year," said Tom. "I have OWLs to complete this year. Those are my priority right now."

"Right," said Hagrid. "Okay. Well, you promise you won't tell anyone then, yes?"

"I promise," said Tom, stepping into the room. "Go on, show me."

"Alright," whispered Hagrid. He moved away from the trunk.

It opened and a few large, black, and furry legs started to climb out. Tom stared at the creature as it sprung to life on the floor.

"This is Aragog," said Hagrid, beaming at the spider. "Isn't he _beautiful_?"

"Splendid," said Tom, blankly. "Is he your pet?"

"Oh yes," cried Hagrid, tears streaming down his eyes. "I love him so much, I couldn't bare leaving him behind another year."

"Yes," said Tom, sniffing. "That would be catastrophic. Well, I'll be going now. Take care, Hagrid."

"Oy, what's your name?" said Hagrid as Tom meant to leave.

"Tom," he answered, without looking back.

"Blimey, well thank you Tom! Thanks a lot!"

"Yeah," said Tom, closing the door behind him.

_What a brainless oaf._

The Christmas holidays quickly ended and soon, the students returned and term resumed. Tom began revising heavily for the OWLs and so Death Eater meetings were scarce. However, he did not give up on the Chamber of Secrets. He made a point of visiting the chamber at least once a week to give the basilisk new instructions. And so, as the weeks went by, so did the mudbloods. More and more mudbloods were being attacked, daily now, and the castle corridors had never smelled better.

At long last, Tom decided to confide in his Death Eaters what he had been up to and who had been responsible for these attacks.

"BLIMEY!" cried Rowle. "THAT'S BRILLIANT!"

"Knew it was you!" exclaimed Rosier. "Knew it."

"It's a fantastic plan, sir," added Davis.

"I know," said Tom.

He turned to look at Avery who was sitting in an armchair by the fire, reading his charms book without so much as glancing at the group. Tom motioned for the other boys to busy themselves and went to sit with Avery.

"What's going on?" he asked him.

Avery sat up in his chair and closed the book in his lap.

"Nothing, sir," he said, quickly.

He was still not meeting Tom's eyes.

"Why are you so quiet lately?" asked Tom.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Avery.

"I don't want your sorries," said Tom. "I want an explanation."

"I…I d-don't have one…sir," said Avery.

"Pity," said Tom. "I really liked you once."

Avery gulped loudly.

"I—"

"Relax," said Tom. "Honestly, you'll give yourself a nosebleed."

Avery nodded vigorously.

"I hope you understand why I punished you that day on the train," said Tom, casually.

"Yes, sir," said Avery.

"You were not asked to go around and advertise who I am," said Tom. "You do realise, of course, the danger of spreading things like that…telling people that I am the Heir of Slytherin…Especially now, what with all these attacks going on."

Avery contented himself with nodding again.

"But it's all in the past now," said Tom, brightly. "Don't do it again and we'll forget it happened."

"You're too kind, sir," said Avery.

* * *

The next Hogsmeade weekend (in March) was cancelled because the professors feared to let the students out. All students were now being escorted to each lesson by a teacher. All prefects were instructed to escort the first-years everywhere. Tom therefore had to babysit his Slytherins nearly every day, which was definitely most frustrating. The atmosphere in the school was very dark and there was fear absolutely everywhere. Tom had never felt more at home. If only they knew that it was he who was behind all of this. If only.

Tom instructed his Death Eaters to revise hard for the upcoming OWLs , as good marks would provide no reason for suspicion. Therefore, the Death Eaters obeyed his commands and spent all their time in the library with their books. Tom too, spent a great deal of time revising as it was essential that he should achieve Outstanding in each and every one of his exams.

On the last day of March, also known as Attack #32, Tom was called up to the staff table over dinner, by none other than Professor Dumbledore. Headmaster Dippet had skipped dinner that night as he had an important meeting with the Minister of Magic regarding these ongoing attacks. Tom approached Professor Dumbledore and bowed once to him.

"I have to have a serious talk with you, Tom," said Dumbledore. "Please come to my office as soon as you have finished dinner."

"Yes, sir," said Tom, looking concerned.

Tom rushed back to his table, quickly finished his dinner and folded up his essay on Knarls and their habitats, and went ahead to Dumbledore's office.

"Shut the door, please," Dumbledore instructed him. Tom did so.

He crossed the room without Dumbledore's invitation and sat across from him.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "I wanted to ask you again, Tom. Is there anything you know about these attacks that have been going on?"

"No, sir," said Tom.

"Ah, just think about it," said Dumbledore. "Think about it carefully."

"I have, sir," said Tom. "There is nothing I can tell you."

"I'm afraid I am going to need a little more persuasion," said Dumbledore. "You see, Tom, I have reason to believe that you may know something."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Do you, sir?"

"I do," nodded Dumbledore.

"I am sorry to hear that, professor," said Tom. "But I don't know what you mean to imply here."

Dumbledore paused.

"You are sweating, Tom," he said, observantly.

Tom quickly wiped his forehead on his sleeve and met Dumbledore's eye.

"It is rather hot in here," he said, shrugging.

"I do not think it is—"

"Are other prefects also being interrogated, professor?" interrupted Tom, coldly.

Dumbledore was very much surprised by his words and stared at him for a long time.

"Be careful how you address your teachers, Tom," he said. He then leaned forwards and his next words surprised Tom indeed.

"I know what you are up to, Tom," he said, in a low voice, "Don't think that I don't because I do."

"I'm afraid I don't know what—"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Tom," said Dumbledore, quickly. "Just think about that."

Tom stared at him.

"Off you go," said Dumbledore, now leaning back against his chair.

Tom did not stand up.

"Tom?" said Dumbledore. "Did you hear me?"

"I…" Tom attempted to stutter. "I'm just very s-sorry."

"About what, Tom?" frowned Dumbledore.

"I'm… I'm sorry to hear that you think so badly of me."

"Tom!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Tom, I do not!"

"I try my best to be a good student," said Tom.

He made to get up but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Nonsense, Tom!" he cried. "Relax, I am not punishing you or accusing you of anything. I most certainly do not believe that you have been behind these attacks. But, being in Slytherin, and seeing as how it is _Slytherin's_ chamber that has been opened, I feel that, as a prefect, you may have found out something. I of course understand your reluctance to turn over one of your classmates as, being an orphan, well…they must be like your family, no?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom.

"I just hope that in the end, you will choose to do the right thing," said Dumbledore, who was now smiling.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm sure I have told you before that there is a kind of magic that is more powerful than any other..."

Tom stared at him without blinking.

"Love," he said to the old man.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, smiling sadly. "Love."

"I must say, professor, that I'm not sure I agree."

At this, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"You don't?"

"No, sir," said Tom. "I don't think that love is the most powerful magic out there. My family history is an example of it."

Dumbledore eyed him carefully.

"What do you mean by this, Tom?"

"I did a little bit of research and found out that my mother died on the very night she dropped me off at the orphanage. She was a witch and she chose to die. That's not love, sir."

Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"She fell in love with my father and that right there was her very downfall," Tom went on. "I hardly call that a wise choice."

"One day perhaps, you will understand. You may go now, Tom."

"Good night, sir."

Back in the Common Room, Tom paced for what felt like hours. He had so far managed to attack plenty of mudbloods. Even if they were revived, they would surely never want to return to the school again, and others out in the wizarding world would be reluctant to send their children to the school. The deed was done. He would have to seal the chamber now. If Dumbledore was really onto him, it would be most dangerous for him to continue instructing the basilisk. Tom sat on the couch in the deserted Common Room, and wiped a panicky tear that had surprisingly trickled down his cheek. Only Dumbledore was capable of doing this to him. Pfft..._Love_.


	15. The Downfall of Rubeus Hagrid

**Author's Note: Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...Tom sat on the couch in the deserted Common Room, and wiped a panicky tear that had surprisingly trickled down his cheek. Only Dumbledore was capable of doing this to him. Pfft..._Love_..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 15: THE DOWNFALL OF RUBEUS HAGRID **

The warmth of April spread over the castle like a thick, wool blanket. The blazing sun stretched its wings across the clear blue sky. Colourful flowers blossomed across the grounds and the owls from the owlery screeched and hooted happily. It was indeed a very beautiful spring. But inside the castle, there was nothing but fear and terror.

The students barely left their common rooms anymore, except to attend classes and meals. The castle corridors had never been more deserted. Whenever Tom looked up at the staff table in the Great Hall, the teachers were immersed in hushed whispers with worried looks on their faces. All Hogsmeade visits had been cancelled for the rest of the year, and a 6 o'clock curfew had been administered to the students. It was simply impossible for Tom to visit the chamber.

He therefore spent most of his time in the library, revising for the upcoming OWLs. He had abolished all meetings for the remainder of term and had commanded his Death Eaters to stay out of trouble and study instead.

When the Easter holidays arrived, the Hogwarts students were given special permission to go home to their families. The castle quickly emptied and the only students that were left behind were Tom and his Death Eaters, and a couple of odd Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors and two small Ravenclaws. _Oh, and the giant Hagrid of course, as he could not bear to part from his beloved pet_, thought Tom.

Although he had been initially against it, Tom reluctantly accepted his Death Eaters' gifts. They had tried giving him things for Christmas but his initial response had been, "I don't do _Christmas_." This time however, he found himself to be quite interested in the things that they had presented him with. They had evidently been down to Knockturn Alley recently, though Tom was suspicious as to how they'd managed it. Rowle had given him more Imperious powder. Selwynn had gotten him a book about Purebloods. Rosier had gotten him a couple of skulls and Lestrange a shrunken head. But Avery's gift was peculiar of all. He had gotten Tom a notebook—almost like a diary—which had Tom's full name (Tom Marvolo Riddle) engraved at the back cover. He didn't see how this object would be useful to him, so he carelessly stuffed it in his school bag to please Avery who had been watching him unwrap it with an eager expression on his mouse-like face.

On the last day before the end of the Easter holidays, Tom went to the Restricted Section of the library and scanned the shelves. He cracked open _Secrets of the Darkest Art _by Owle Bullock, a large ancient looking book bound in faded black leather, and skimmed through the rusty pages. His heart stopped as he most accidentally came across that peculiar term again: Horcrux. He scanned the page and was delighted to find that it went into detail about the origin of this word:

_Herpo the Foul was an Ancient Greek Dark Wizard. He is one of the earliest known Dark Wizards and his work is still a lasting aspect of dark magic to date. He is best known as the first wizard to hatch a basilisk. He is reputed to have invented many vile curses and was also the first wizard known to successfully create a Horcrux, perhaps having designed the ritual himself. Accordingly, he must have committed murder to split his soul. He is one of the earliest known Parselmouths. _

_A horcrux is a powerful object in which a dark witch or wizard has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purposes of attaining immortality. Creating a horcrux gives one the ability to anchor one's own soul to earth if the body is destroyed. _

Immortality. Tom could feel the gleam in his eyes, the shimmering sparkle of delight. His heart beat rapidly of excitement and he couldn't help but smile. _Immortality_. This was the answer at last. The key to becoming the most powerful sorcerer in the world. But Herpo the Foul had already managed to create a horcrux. Perhaps, Tom would find a way to succeed him. Hearing footsteps somewhere in the distance, he hastily shut the dusty book and stored it back in its shelf, leaving the library with a new wave of inspiration.

Tom was determined to do well on his OWLs. He had studied every book he owned several times and was thoroughly confident he had all his notes memorized. He lent them to his Death Eaters to study as well, as it was crucial that they achieve acceptable marks so as not to look suspicious in front of Dumbledore.

On the first day of exams, Tom sat at breakfast alone and carefully read through _Spellman's Syllabary_. He could feel Dumbledore's heavy gaze on him from the staff table, but did not dare look up to meet his clear blue eyes.

"I'm scared!" wailed a whiny first-year sitting across from him. "I don't want to go. I'm really scared that the monster will find me on the way there!"

"Don't worry!" hissed his friend sitting next to him. "You'll be fine! You've got to be brave!"

"I'm not brave!" cried the first one. "That's why I'm not in Gryffindor!"

"Calm yourselves," Tom instructed them just as Professor Beery passed by. "The monster will not attack you. You are safe. There is nothing to worry about."

Professor Beery had heard these words, as was Tom's intention, and chuckled under his breath.

"Such a good boy," he muttered to himself.

"Could…could you escort me to the bathroom?" asked the boy who was now in tears. Tom was still gazing after Professor Beery who had exited the Hall. "Uh, prefect boy?"

"What?" said Tom, now looking at the boy.

"Could you please escort me to the bathroom so that I'll be safe?"

"No," said Tom blankly, and he returned to his book and finished his food.

After breakfast, the fifth years waited around in the Entrance Hall while the rest of the students went to their classes. Everyone was either heavily immersed in mountains of notes or muttering incantations under their breaths and flicking their wands around. Soon, the doors to the Great Hall opened and Headmaster Dippet instructed the students to enter.

The four house tables had disappeared and were instead replaced with loads of single tables facing the front. A large hour-glass had been placed where the staff table usually sat. Professor Dippet motioned for the students to find their seats and himself approached the front and turned to face them.

"You may begin!" he called and the hour-glass turned itself upside down.

Tom glanced at the Herbology exam paper before him. There were questions on fanged geraniums and Chinese Chomping Cabbage. This was going to be too easy. He bent over his paper and began scratching away with his quill.

He had been right. The exam had been a joke, and the practical part of it that afternoon was just as anecdotal. He sat his Charms exam the following day and was thoroughly pleased with it as well. He'd excelled at the practical part, as predicted by Professor Flitwick, and astonished all of the examiners in the room with his Growth charm. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the exam he had been looking forward to the most. He'd answered every single question in the written exam correctly, and had mastered the Riddikulus spell as well as all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells. His Ancient Runes exam hadn't been quite so easy, but he was still confident he'd done well as he'd translated all the runes correctly.

By the end of the week, all that was left was Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Astronomy. Tom permitted himself a break from revising on Saturday morning and decided to take a walk about the castle grounds. He thought long and hard about the Chamber of Secrets and how he was to go and seal it. Teachers were always everywhere and Dumbledore was keeping a firm eye on him. It was virtually impossible to do, yet absolutely necessary to achieve before the end of term.

The History of Magic exam on Monday morning was absolutely ridiculous. Tom knew the International Confederation of Wizards like the back of his hand and simply laughed at the question about the Warlocks of Liechtenstein. Care of Magical Creatures was a subject he cared not about, but that did not stop him from excelling at both the written and practical parts of the examination on Tuesday. Then, Wednesday came and it was time to sit the Potions exam. Tom knew very well that Professor Slughorn would expect him to achieve an Outstanding, and so he took particular care with his potion and was the first to finish. On Thursday morning, Tom sat his Transfiguration written exam, which was most difficult. He'd forgotten the definition of a Switching Spell and messed up some of the other crucial questions as well. However, he'd done brilliantly on the practical part of the exam as the examiners all applauded his excellent vanishing spell.

Finally, Friday arrived and with it came the last exam: Astronomy. Tom was the first to finish the written exam and spent the rest of the day revising for the practical which would take place that night. Just before heading up to the Astronomy tower at midnight however, he stopped Avery in his tracks and pulled him to a corner, keeping an eye out for the examiner who was leading the other fifth-years up the marble staircase.

"I have a job for you," Tom hissed at Avery, who looked somewhat frightened but concentrated hard.

"After the exam, you are to go and distract Dumbledore. I don't care how you do it, just make sure he does not see me sneaking off, understand?"

"Yes, sir," nodded Avery. "But may I ask…?"

"I have to go and seal the chamber," Tom replied and, noticing the last of the students heading up the stairs, he let go of Avery and quickly joined them.

Just before climbing the stairs however, he turned round and spotted the oaf Hagrid making his way towards the dungeons, no doubt to visit that filthy hairy beast of his. What a miserable oaf. Tom only wished he could come up with a way to get rid of him. He was just as filthy as the rest of the mudbloods in this castle.

Tom's star chart looked perfect just half an hour into the exam. He decided that it would look too suspicious if he handed it in early, so he merely pretended to check his answers for the next hour and a half. Finally, at 2 o'clock in the morning, the examiner announced that time was up and the students put away their telescopes and turned in their examination papers. Tom gave Avery a small nod and was off.

He darted through the dark, deserted corridors, always checking that no one was around. Finally, he'd reached the girl's bathroom and pulled out his wand. He hissed "Open" in Parseltongue and the sinks began to move. However, just before he could climb in through the tunnel, he heard a muffled sound in one of the stalls.

"Who's there?!" cried the trembling voice of a frightened girl.

Tom froze.

There was no denying that he had most certainly not expected this. He could hear the basilisk slithering through the tunnel and before long, it appeared from out of the hole, peering around. Tom hissed at it and it hissed back.

"You're a boy!" gasped the girl from the stall. "GET OUT!"

Tom heard the click of a lock and the stall door burst open. The girl glared at him, and for a fraction of a second, Tom thought he'd saw some recognition in her eyes...like she knew who he was. But before she could say or do anything else, her brown eyes met the big yellow ones of the basilisk, and she instantly turned pale and fell to the floor. Tom hissed at the basilisk to go back down and fall asleep. The basilisk bowed its head and disappeared back through the tunnel. Tom muttered in Parseltongue for the sinks to return to their places, and the Chamber was officially sealed.

Then, glancing at the girl's lifeless body on the floor, he pulled out his wand and fumbled around in his bag. He retrieved the diary that Avery had gotten for him, flipped it open, and leaned down next to the girl. He began muttering the incantation that he'd read in _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_. The process took all of twenty minutes but when Tom was finished, he knew it had worked because the diary in his hand vibrated for a few seconds and then went still again. Pleased, he put it back into his bag, fixed the Hufflepuff tie around the girl's neck so that it was not hanging recklessly, straightened up, and left the bathroom.

It wasn't long before the girl—Myrtle had been her name—was discovered by a student and reported to the teachers at once. The teachers cried in shock as they gathered in the bathroom and led Myrtle out. They alerted her family at once, as well as the Minister of Magic who was completely distraught at this news.

Tom sat in his dormitory, not speaking to any of the other Slytherins about the night's events, as no one seemed to know yet. After his dormitory mates had fallen asleep, Tom pulled out his diary and examined it. His very first horcrux. He had achieved it at last. He was now one step closer to his mission. The horcrux had given him a new sort of affection for Avery. His gift had been most useful after all. Tom held the diary close to his chest, disregarding how this would look to a watcher. This diary contained a piece of him—a piece of his soul. He would guard it as he guarded his own life…with particular care.

The following morning, the entire school had found out about the previous night's events and the panic and fear was greater than ever. Tom had distinctly watched his professors cry together with mourning students. Myrtle had apparently been a third-year mudblood girl, a very annoying one, but kind at heart. She had been crying in the bathroom that night because Olive Hornby had teased her about her glasses. Poor Hornby was overwhelmed with guilt and had to be taken to the Hospital Wing to receive a Calming Draught.

Soon, rumors began to fly about the castle that Dippet was going to close down Hogwarts and the students were going to be sent home for good. This worried Tom a great deal and he wasted no time in going down to the Headmaster's office to confirm these rumors. He did so on Tuesday night, four days before the end of term. He knew that Myrtle's parents were due to arrive at the school the following day. As they were muggles, it had taken a bit longer to reach them and make arrangements for their arrival.

"My dear boy," said Armando Dippet after Tom had explained his situation to him. He looked very distraught and exhausted. There were bags under his eyes and a kind of surreal sadness. "You must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends, particularly in light of the recent tragedy…the death of that…poor…little…girl."

Dippet picked up his wand, conjured a tissue, and blew his nose into it.

"You will be safer, I think, at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the—er—source of all this…unpleasantness,"

"Sir," said Tom, carefully levelling his voice. "If the person were caught—if it all stopped—"

"What do you mean?" cried Dippet, who was now looking at Tom with concern. "Riddle, do you mean to say that you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Tom. "I was just wondering… I don't want to return to the orphanage for good. I have learned so much here at Hogwarts and I'm just desperate for the situation to resolve itself."

"I don't see how it will," sighed Dippet. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and blew his nose again. "You should probably return to your common room now. I have to meet the Minister of Magic and he will be arriving here shortly…along with…Myrtle's, er…parents."

"Yes sir," said Tom, rising from the chair opposite the headmaster's desk. "Good night, sir."

Once out in the hall, Tom's mind raced for a solution. He could only think of one possible way out of this. He would have to turn someone in. Someone would have to take responsibility for these attacks. Otherwise, they would surely close the school. But if someone did come forward, would the school indeed remain open? He thought about maybe commanding that Avery come forward and take full responsibility of these events, when, turning the corner, Tom stopped dead. Several wizards were carrying a body covered in sheets. Their heads were bowed and they did not even seem to notice Tom as they passed by him on the stairs.

"Riddle!" called a voice that always made Tom's heart jump. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around to face Professor Dumbledore.

"Come," said Dumbledore.

Tom approached him.

"It is not wise for you to be wandering around at this late hour, Tom," said Dumbledore, firmly.

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "I was just wondering…I had to see for myself if the rumors were true."

"I'm afraid they are, Tom," said Dumbledore, glancing after the procession of wizards. "They are true."

"About the school as well?" said Tom, closing his hands behind his back and glancing up at Dumbledore with a worried look. "I don't have a home to go to. They wouldn't _really _close Hogwarts, would they professor?"

"I understand, Tom," said Dumbledore, sadly. "But I'm afraid, Headmaster Dippet may have no choice."

"Sir, I'm…I'm desperate," continued Tom. "If this person was caught, then the school would not have to close, would it?"

Dumbledore frowned at him.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?"

"No sir, nothing!" responded Tom, screwing together the most innocent look he could manage.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at him from behind the half-moon spectacles, and then nodded.

"Very well then, off you go."

"Good night, professor," said Tom and he turned away from Dumbledore.

On his way to the dungeons, Tom wrestled with the idea that had crossed his mind while talking to Dumbledore. This was surely the only way out of this mess, and the oaf completely deserved it. Pulling out his wand, Tom changed course and instead approached the hidden door at the end of the long corridor. He glanced back once to make sure that no one was around, and then flung the door open.

Hagrid, who had been talking to his filthy pet over in the trunk, jumped a few feet back. The trunk closed and Hagrid stared at Tom with a frightened expression.

"Good evening, Hagrid," said Tom, pointing his wand directly at him. "I'm sure you understand why I have to do this."

"No!" cried Hagrid. "No, I know what you're thinking. B-but…it wasn't him. Aragog never killed no one! NEVER!"

"The dead girl's parents will be here soon," declared Tom. "The least Hogwarts can do is make sure the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered."

"But surely," gasped Hagrid. "Surely ya don't believe it. It wasn't him, I tell ya. It wasn't!"

"Monsters don't make good pets, Hagrid," said Tom, simply. "Now, stand aside."

"No!"

"Stand aside, Hagrid."

"NO!"

Tom pointed his wand at the trunk.

"Cistem Aperio!"

The trunk burst open and the ugly, hairy spider crawled out and ran out of the room and down the corridor.

"ARANIA EXUMAI!" Tom bellowed after it but the spell merely hit the wall and the spider escaped.

"RUN, ARAGOG! RUN!" bellowed Hagrid, but Tom turned round and pointed his wand at him.

"I can't let you go, Hagrid," said Tom. "They'll have your wand for this. You'll be expelled."

Hagrid turned pale and looked absolutely terrified. Tom pointed his wand to the door.

"After you!" he declared, and Hagrid slowly made his way out of the room. Tom followed him from behind, still pointing his wand at him as he instructed him where to go. Soon, they reached the Headmaster's office and Tom knocked three times on the door. Hagrid stood beside him, sobbing. Tom pocketed his wand just as the door opened and Dippet frowned at him.

"I thought you were already asleep!" he said. He noticed Hagrid crying and his frown deepened on his old, tired face. "What's happened?"

"I regret to inform you, professor, that I neglected to reveal this information sooner," said Tom.

"What do you—come in, both of you."

Tom and Hagrid entered the office and spotted the Minister of Magic, a few other unknown wizards, and Professor Dumbledore, all gathered around Dippet's desk.

"Tom," Dumbledore.

"Professor," said Tom, bowing his head.

"Now, tell me what this is all about," said Dippet, closing the office door.

"Professor Dumbledore warned me about this early on in the year," said Tom, glancing once at Dumbledore and then at Dippet. "And he was right… I did know something about these attacks but I was afraid that if I told, that my friends at Hogwarts would not accept me anymore. You see, they're almost like my family."

"That's understandable," said the Minister of Magic.

"Well," continued Tom. "I found out about Hagrid's pet long ago and I warned him about it but he wouldn't listen to me."

"It's not true!" wailed Hagrid. "It's not!"

"Silence, Hagrid!" barked Dippet. "Continue, Tom."

Tom bowed his head once.

"Well, I had seen it happen for myself. I had seen Hagrid instruct the monster to kill that girl."

Dippet glared at Hagrid who continued to sob.

"Calm down, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No, Dumbledore!" cried Dippet, furiously. Dumbledore took his hand off of Hagrid and bowed low to the headmaster. Dippet rounded on Hagrid.

"You, boy," Hagrid stifled a sob and look up at the professor. "Do you have an illegal pet?"

Hagrid nodded.

"What is it?"

"An acromantula," answered Tom from behind Dippet.

Dippet turned to look at him.

"A what?"

"It's a large spider," said Tom. "I've read about them in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. They are meant to grow to tremendous size and feed on human flesh."

Dippet shuddered and then glared at Hagrid again.

"Is this true?"

Hagrid met Tom's eye, sobbed again, and nodded.

"Where is it? WHERE IS THE BEAST?!" barked Dippet.

"H-he's gone," cried Hagrid. "Aragog left."

"Now, now, Professor Dippet, let's just calm down," interjected Dumbledore. "I'm sure we can sort this out quietly."

"We already have!" snapped Dippet and he marched over to his desk, fumbled around in the drawers, and retrieved a piece of paper. He began scribbling in it and then thrust it at Hagrid.

"Sign here," he muttered.

Hagrid wrote his name on the piece of paper.

"Hand it over," said Dippet, holding out his hand.

Hagrid hesitated, let out another sob, and then shakily took out his wand and gave it to Dippet. One of the other wizards in the office pointed his wand at Hagrid's, muttered a spell, and Hagrid's wand snapped in two. Pleased, Dippet disposed of the pieces and gave the other wizards instructions to summon reporters from the _Daily Prophet_. Tom caught a few words like "I can't believe it" and "Finally the truth comes out", but was too distracted by the look that Dumbledore was giving him. It was the mother of all accusatory. It was as if Dumbledore could see right through Tom's mind. Tom had done a fair bit of reading over the last few years and had practiced Occlumency on his own time, so he knew that if Dumbledore tried to look into his mind now, he would be able to resist him. Still, he did not like that look one bit. Dumbledore put a hand on Hagrid's shoulder again, so as to silently tell Tom "I know what you did." Tom looked away.

"Very well," said Dippet, turning to Tom again and holding out a hand for him to shake. "I am very proud of you Tom for coming forward. I understand how difficult it must have been for you but you've certainly made the right choice. This business is finally over and we can all finally breathe again."

The other wizards in the office nodded in agreement. The Minister of Magic grabbed a few signed sheets of paper, pulled Hagrid with him, waved goodbye to all, and disappeared with Hagrid behind the emerald green flames in the fireplace.

"I suggest you go to bed, Tom," said Dippet. "You've had a long night."

"Good night, professors," said Tom, quietly.

* * *

"Not a word to anyone, understood?" said Tom, peering over at all of his Death Eaters. They nodded in unison. "Not a word," Tom repeated.

"So he's really gone, then?" said Lestrange in a small voice.

"Yes," said Tom. "Rubeus Hagrid has been expelled from Hogwarts for good. I watched them snap his wand in half."

"Wicked," said Rowle. "I can't believe we got away with this."

"Well, believe it," said Tom. "I promised you I'd take care of all of you, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir!" they exclaimed.

On the last day of term, Professor Dippet made a lengthy speech about the year's unpleasant events. He beamed as he told the staff and students in the Great Hall that the culprit had been caught, that Myrtle will always be remembered, and that they were finally safe to continue studying at Hogwarts. He made quite a scene in calling Tom to the front of the hall and handing him a silver medal for Special Services to the School.

"This will be displayed up in the trophy room with your name on it, Tom," said Dippet, happily. "We could not thank you more for helping us to achieve peace and safety at last."

Tom smiled slightly as the whole of the school applauded for him, the Slytherins being the loudest.

Dippet went on about how all the petrified students in the hospital wing had been successfully revived and were now well and happy again. The school exploded with cheers at this news. The Slytherins looked rather smug but Tom did not show any reaction to this news. He'd known that sooner or later this would happen. But the only thing that was important to him now was that he had finally created a horcrux. Myrtle had given him that. He was a bit sad he could not thank her, seeing as how she was dead.

The house cup was awarded to Slytherin again that year, though apparently the Gryffindors had beaten them in every game at Quidditch. Still, Tom's remarkable achievements in class earned the house a good 500 points by the end of term, and Dippet had awarded him 60 points for Hagrid's capture alone.

The mood around the castle had brightened considerably with the return of the petrified students, though there were still a few odd students who were either mourning Myrtle's death or sad about Hagrid's expulsion. Still, the end of the year arrived with bright spirits and the students gladly helped each other onto the Hogwarts train the next morning, promising to keep in touch over the summer.

Tom shared a compartment with Avery, Lestrange, Rowle, Selwynn, Rosier, and Davis. They discussed the year's events and their plans for the following year. Rowle had stupidly suggested that they open the chamber again the following year to finish the job, but Tom had shot down this suggestion at once.

"Don't be stupid," he snapped. "Or you'll live to regret it."

He winced slightly at the pain on his left arm but quickly covered it up with a cough. His arm had been bothering him all morning.

"Yes, sir," said Rowle, looking down at his feet with shame.

The train pulled into King's Cross station very soon, and together, the Death Eaters crossed the barrier into the muggle world. They parted ways and Tom reluctantly made his way back to prison. Mrs. Cole was standing at the front steps, waiting to greet him.

"You've grown so big, Tom!" she exclaimed as he joined her at the door. "So big, indeed!"

"Right," said Tom, blankly.

"Well, your room is all ready for you downstairs," said Mrs. Cole, nervously.

Tom eyed her with a small grin on his face.

"Thank you," he said simply and retreated to his room.

Once alone, he put away his things and sat on the bed. He pulled out the diary that was now a horcrux and smiled down at it. It was absolutely beautiful. He would guard and treasure it for all eternity, seeing as how now, he was definitely not going anywhere. His arm was still aching, though it felt sorer now than before. He rolled up his sleeve and examined it. There was a very, very faint scratch on his arm now. A very faint scratch indeed.


	16. Little Hangleton

**Author's Note: If you remember at the beginning of this story, I mentioned that there would only be a few chapters wherein I copy a lot of the dialogue from the actual books. This is one of those chapters. I had to copy exactly what happens during Tom's and Morfin's conversation in Little Hangleton. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short chapter (Wolfdawn, this one's for you!) and expect another chapter within the next week or so. It will be titled "Invincibility" and will be about Tom's return to Hogwarts for sixth year and his growing obsession with the idea of immortality. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...His arm was still aching, though it felt sorer now than before. He rolled up his sleeve and examined it. There was a very, very faint scratch on his arm now. A very faint scratch indeed..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 16: LITTLE HANGLETON**

Tom's summer holidays that year were much better than he'd ever had. The first month was rather dull as he spent every possible minute in his room, rereading the books he had read hundreds of times before. He spent a lot of time gazing down at the diary…the beautiful, _beautiful_ horcrux. He could not believe how much affection he felt for this one simple object. He had not intended on making one himself, but it seemed to be the only sensible thing to do when Myrtle died. She was already dead so he might as well have used her death to his benefit. And it worked like a charm.

Mrs. Cole and the other orphans did not bother Tom at all that summer so he was spared having to jinx them. Though it was illegal to perform magic outside of school while underage, Tom really yearned to try the Cruciatus curse out on Mrs. Cole. He had a distinct feeling that the pain he used to cause Billy as a child was somewhat related to the curse.

Tom's Hogwarts letter arrived rather early that summer, so he wasted no time in going down to Diagon Alley to do all his shopping. He had told Mrs. Cole that he was out doing errands for school, which was partially true. However, Tom had greater plans for what he would do after he was done with Diagon Alley. The time had come at last and he was most eager to do this.

Mr. Q of _Flourish and Blotts_ was pleased to see Tom as always, and even offered to let Tom purchase new books for second-hand price, seeing as how Tom had helped him so much the last two summers. Since Diagon Alley was rather empty at this time of year, Tom did not hesitate to go down to Knockturn Alley and visit Borgin again. He was most pleased to see Tom and offered him a brand new collection of Imperius powder for half-price, which Tom accepted without hesitation.

As soon as he was done with all his shopping, Tom headed back to the orphanage and snuck his things into his room. Then, he left again and hauled a muggle car. The driver was very talkative and asked a lot of questions, but Tom merely dismissed them all and simply instructed him where to go. Finally, at around midday, Tom had arrived at his destination. He paid the driver, got out of the car, and waited for him to leave. Then, he looked around.

Little Hangleton. A completely deserted village. It was nestled between two steep hills with a clearly visible church and graveyard. Across the valley on the opposite hillside, was a large manor house surrounded by a wide expanse of velvety green lawn. The whole of the village was covered by a layer of thick, dark clouds. A stranger could have easily mistaken it for being late evening. Tom made to approach the house but caught something out of the corner of his eye. Beyond the hills, in the far distance, was what looked like a little shack. A man—who appeared like dot from where Tom was standing—was yelling at an object on the ground, which, as Tom squinted his eyes, he realised was a snake. He heard a distant hiss and then a door slam. Tom decided to go for the shack first.

He reached the front door soon enough and stared down at the snake that was slithering nearby. It seemed to recognize him and did not make any movements of attack.

"Is your master home?" Tom asked it.

"Yes," the snake answered in a low hiss.

Tom picked up the lamp that was on the floor by the door, tapped it with his wand to make it light up, and knocked once loudly on the door. No one answered. Feeling impatient, he tapped the handle with his wand once, and the door creaked open. Tom stood in the doorway, taking it all in.

The house was indescribably filthier than anything Tom had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; moldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown Tom could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire, with a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left. For a few seconds, Tom and the man stared at each other. Then, the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Tom, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop," said Tom in Parseltongue.

The man skidded into the table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Tom. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Tom.

He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He stared around at the dirty shack, his face expressionless. How pathetic it was for anyone to live in such a hellhole.

"Where is Marvolo?" Tom asked the man after a moment's silence.

"Dead," said the man. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Tom frowned at him.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

Tom glared at him.

"Marvolo's son?"

"Course I am, then…" said the man, drunkenly.

A vicious glint crossed Tom's eyes. So this was his dear mother's brother. His uncle. The one who had let him grow up in the orphanage. A Gaunt. The last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin, apart from Tom himself.

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Tom. He had a black-stoned gleaming ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that muggle."

"What muggle?" said Tom, sharply, looking away from the ring and meeting Morfin's eyes.

"That muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that muggle what lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, in'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it…"

So he was talking about his father then. The muggle that his mother had had him with. And he had just told Tom that he lived in that big house. So the manor that Tom had just now crossed was the Riddle House. He eyed it through the window hungrily. He could almost see Tom Riddle Sr. in the distance, laughing pathetically.

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support. "He come back, see," he added stupidly.

Tom was gazing at Morfin with slightly narrowed eyes. How would he go about it? He knew perfectly well that the Ministry would not know that he was the one who'd performed magic, seeing as how this was a wizard residence. Still…he could not just go about it recklessly. He had to think of a plan to make it completely untraceable back to him.

"Riddle came back?" he asked Morfin, though his mind was elsewhere, plotting.

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" said Morfin, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off…where's the locket? Eh, where's the Slytherin locket?"

Tom did not answer. He had only half-heard what Morfin had said. A brilliant, wonderful, glorious idea had just crossed his cunning mind.

Morfin had suddenly grown angry and brandished his knife, shouting "DISHONORED US, SHE DID, THAT LITTLE SLUT! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit…it's over!"

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Tom moved forwards. Morfin turned rather pale. Tom neared him and pointed his wand right between his eyes. "Stupify."

Morfin fell back into his armchair, unconscious. Tom took his wand from him, hesitated, and then took the ring from his finger as well. He placed it on his own finger and headed over to the Riddle House, leaving the lamp behind as well.

He knew that he would never forget the look on his father's face when he had pointed the wand at him and sent a jet of green light that hit him square in the chest. His father had been so taken aback that he had no time to try and run. The old man and woman, who stood in the corner of the room, trembling from head to toe, pleaded Tom to spare their lives. But he looked blankly in their direction before killing them as well. The three bodies collapsed to the floor with loud thumps. Tom eyed his father carefully. He really did look a lot like him. He made a mental note that he would have to do something about this later. Not wanting to waste more time in this dreadful place, he set to work. He whispered the same incantations that he'd done back in the girls bathroom shortly after Myrtle's death just a few months before. It was a rather difficult task to do and he had to try it a couple of times to get it right. When the process was complete an hour later—and he knew it was much stronger this time since there were three deaths, not one—the ring on his finger vibrated slightly. Pleased, Tom turned around and departed for the shack again.

He whispered complicated incantations in Morfin's ears and knew that, though his uncle was unconscious, he could hear them loud and clear. Tom placed his uncle's wand in his lap, and then, feeling pleased, departed from the village.

Once back in the orphanage, he put the ring and the diary side-by-side on his bed and glanced down at them. He _adored_ them. They were bits of his soul…pieces of him. He would do everything in his power to guard them and protect them. He spent most of that night thinking back on how genius his plan had been. He distinctly heard, just as he was leaving the village, an old maid's shriek "THE RIDDLES HAVE BEEN MURDERED!" He knew that once the muggle authorities had been alerted, they would convict Morfin Gaunt. He knew perfectly well that Morfin would confess to the crime. For the first (and only time), Tom felt a little bit of gratitude for Morfin's existence, however worthless it may have seemed.

But despite having successfully created another horcrux, despite having strengthened his powers, and despite having gotten away with it all, Tom's happiness came from the mere fact that his father was now finished. He was done. Gone. And there was nothing left to link Tom to him anymore.

The next day, Tom awoke early to find that a letter had been slipped under his door. It had the Hogwarts crest on the front, and Tom's full name on the back. Tom ripped it open and sat on his bed, reading:

**_ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS:_**

**_PASS GRADES_**

**_Outstanding: O_**

**_Exceeds Expectations: E_**

**_Acceptable: A_**

_**FAIL GRADES**_

**_Poor: P_**

**_Dreadful: D_**

**_Troll: T_**

_Tom Marvolo Riddle has achieved:_

_Ancient Runes: O _

_Astronomy: O_

_Care of Magical Creatures: O_

_Charms: O_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts: O_

_Herbology: O_

_History of Magic: O_

_Potions: O_

_Transfiguration: E_

Tom stared down at the piece of parchment. He had achieved 8 Outstanding OWLs and 1 Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration. _Dumbledore_. Of course. Why, he knew this would happen. Looking curiously down at the little black E, Tom felt another slight tinge in his arm. He casually glanced down at it and noticed another, very faint little scratch.

* * *

**Note: In case you're wondering how Tom's just able to make these two horcruxes, as you know, he has spent a lot of time reading his school books as well as the ones he got from Knockturn Alley and the ones in the Restricted Section of the school library. He has thoroughly studied the process for making horcruxes. He has not mastered it yet but he has successfully created two. The diary was a 'just cause' thing because Myrtle was dead and he was there and he decided "What the heck". The ring was another "just cause" thing, but now in the next chapters (and in the end of this one), you'll start to see his growing admiration for these objects as they are bits of him. He will literally become obsessed with horcruxes and the idea of immortality, which is where dear old Professor Slughorn comes in. **


	17. Invincibility

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling. **

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Here they are, the three chapters from Tom's sixth year at Hogwarts. Have a good weekend and see you next week with more chapters :) **

* * *

_...Tom stared down at the piece of parchment. He had achieved 8 Outstanding OWLs and 1 Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration. Dumbledore. Of course. Why, he knew this would happen. Looking curiously down at the little black E, Tom felt another slight tinge in his arm. He casually glanced down at it and noticed another, very faint little scratch..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 17: INVINCIBILITY**

"Are you sure that seventh years stay behind at the school? Like…they stay there and they sleep there and they eat there? Everything?"

"Absolutely," Tom told Mrs. Cole who was staring at him from across her desk.

"Why didn't that professor tell me about this then?" said Mrs. Cole, mostly to herself.

"Oh, you mean Professor Dumbledore?" said Tom. "Right, well he's not headmaster at the school. He's only a teacher. The headmaster is the one who constitutes the bylaws."

"I see," said Mrs. Cole. "But with these difficult times now…surely they wouldn't…" she paused. "Well, er…I guess this is it then, isn't it?"

Tom rose from his seat to shake her hand.

"I guess it is," he told her.

"It's…it's been…l-lovely having you h-here, Tom," said Mrs. Cole, nervously. "Just…just lovely."

"I've had a blast," said Tom, unable to suppress the sarcasm in his voice.

He then picked up his bags and exited her office without another word.

It was September 1st, 1943—also known as Tom's very last day at the orphanage. He had made arrangements with Borgin to allow him to live above his shop next summer so he wouldn't have to return to the orphanage. Borgin had even offered him a job, though Tom wasn't sure he would take it just yet.

As he made his way down the hall towards the exit, little old Billy bumped into him and froze instantly. At only 13, he was just as tall as Tom himself. Though, at the sight of Tom, he dropped his head and narrowed his gaze at his feet. He had never quite gotten over what had happened in that cave all those years ago.

"A-are y-you l-l-leaving?" he managed to say, in a low voice.

"I am," said Tom. "Pleased, are you?"

"N-no," said Billy, unconvincingly. "I…I was just wondering."

"Yeah, well don't get your hopes up," said Tom. "I'm going to a much better place than you'll ever get to."

"Of…of course," said Billy. He started to say something else but Tom did not stick around.

He found the door quickly and climbed down the front steps into the cool morning. He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to look at Wool's Orphanage one last time. It really was a horrid place. He was bloody thrilled to be out of there. He hoped that the muggle war that was happening in Great Britain would burn it down soon. Turning his back on his childhood, he hailed a muggle car and sat in with his bags.

"King's Cross Station," he told the driver.

On the Hogwarts Express an hour later, Tom sat in a secluded compartment with Avery and Lestrange. Rowle, Selwynn, Rosier, and Davis had been instructed to sit in another compartment, though they looked quite hurt when Avery passed this along to them.

Tom stared out the window through most of the journey while Lestrange told him and Avery about his trip to the Ministry of Magic with his dad. In about ten minutes, Tom would have to leave them to go and join the Prefects compartment for a brief meeting. He absolutely detested the idea, but figured it'd be best if he got it over with quickly.

"...and then we visited the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and I also got to see the courtrooms though it's bloody cold down there but still…wicked cool," said Lestrange to a wide-eyed Avery.

"Wow!" exclaimed Avery. "And you got to meet him! You got to meet the _Minister of Magic_!"

"I met the Minister of Magic," said Tom, lazily. "Last year."

"Oh that's right!" exclaimed Avery, now turning his wide, round eyes to Tom. "What's he like?"

"A toad," said Tom simply. "You'd do a better job in his place, Avery."

Avery beamed at him.

"That's not a compliment," Tom clarified. "Minister of Magic, pfft."

Soon, Tom rose from his seat and exited the compartment, leaving the two to discuss goblin riots. He passed along the compartments, catching a few words from fellow students who were exchanging what, in Tom's opinion, were rather dull accounts of their summer activities. Tom quickly found the Prefects compartment on the end of the train and entered it quietly so as not to disturb the meeting that had already commenced.

"Ah hello, Riddle," said Lucas Bell of Ravenclaw, a 7th year. "Nice to see you again."

"Likewise," said Tom, who seated himself by the compartment door.

"How was your summer?" asked Bell, disregarding the nasty look that Jonathan Buckley was giving Tom from across the compartment.

"It was quite enjoyable," said Tom conversationally. "I met a few old family friends. We caught up and had a few laughs."

"That's nice," said Bell, turning away from him. "As I was saying before, I thought we'd try a new system this year to make the work distributed equally. We could have members from each house rotate amongst themselves.,..who will escort the first years around, who will confiscate illegal items. . ."

Tom watched Jonathan for a long time until he finally met his eyes. He looked very fearful which pleased Tom very much. Jonathan quickly looked away and remained quiet for the rest of the meeting.

Soon, the Hogwarts Express pulled in to Hogsmeade station and the students got off the train carrying their bags and pet cages. Tom strode away from the Death Eaters and into the prefect carriage, which they didn't notice him do. However, Tom stopped dead and stared at the carriage for he noticed, for the first time, what was pulling it. It had always seemed to him that the carriages pulled themselves by magic, but no. They were all being pulled by ugly, skeletal creatures that Tom had read about in one of his books…thestrals. And he knew perfectly well why he could see them now.

The crowd slowly descended for the carriages and one by one, they rode up to the large Hogwarts castle that was already twinkling with little lights from the windows. The first years were getting there by boat, as was tradition. The rest took the carriages. As they rode, Tom watched the thestrals carefully. He wondered who else was able to see them. No one besides him had actually seen Myrtle die and he doubted any of them had the opportunity to kill this last summer.

Feeling very pleased with himself, Tom got off the carriage as it halted to a stop, left his bags in the Entrance Hall, and went ahead into the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast. Headmaster Dippet was in his chair at the staff table, looking thrilled to have everyone back at school. Beside him sat Dumbledore who looked serious as always. Next was Professor Merrythought who, as Tom took his seat and narrowed his eyes at, looked older than she'd ever had before. And little Professor Flitwick was sipping from a glass of wine right next to her. Then Tom caught sight of Professors Beery and Kettleburn among many others, before taking his seat at the Slytherin table along with the rest of the students.

The Sorting Ceremony was particularly long that year, as there were many students to go through. It was a while before the feast actually began and that too, seemed to last a long time. A couple of times during the feast, Tom felt a slight tinge in his arm which he tried to ignore, though it was proving to be a lot harder. Tom noticed as he glanced over at the Gryffindor table a couple of times that most of the Gryffindors were quiet and hardly any of them looked cheerful. _They probably still hadn't gotten over poor Hagrid's explusion_, thought Tom. He tried hard to suppress a grin at that moment.

As it was Tom who had escorted the first year Slytherins to their common room last year, he was freed from the burden of the task this year. So, he dodged down the halls towards the dungeons, leaving the Death Eaters looking for him. Just before he turned the corner he spotted the Bloody Baron floating on and about. Baron froze at the sight of Tom.

"Hello sir," he said coolly. "Haven't seen you in a while. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"For what?" spat Tom, who was growing rather impatient with the ghost.

"For your accomplishments last year," said Baron. "You know…that poor mudblood that was killed. The Chamber of Secrets opening and all that… you really are much better than Salazar Slytherin himself was, I must say—"

"Shut up."

"Uh, yes sir."

Tom walked right through him and descended down the dungeons to the Slytherin common room. He quickly retreated to his dormitory and closed the curtains around his four-poster bed. Checking that he was completely alone, he pulled up his sleeve and examined his left arm. More scratches had materialised, all of them faint against his pale white skin. Worry, such that he had never experienced before, began to well up in his chest and his heart beat rapidly. Had something gone wrong with the horcruxes? Did he not do the procedure correctly? Was this a side effect?

"S-sir?" came Avery's mouse-like voice from the door a little while later. "Sir, are…are we having a m-meeting today? Everyone's downstairs waiting…"

Wasting no time, Tom flew open the curtains, pointed his wand at Avery and practically shouted _Stupefy_. He closed the curtains again after he heard the loud thump of Avery's body hitting the wall. Tom got into bed and closed his eyes, without checking that Avery had not been knocked out.

The following morning, after breakfast, Tom waited for Professor Dippet who walked along the Slytherin table and handed out timetables. When he finally reached Tom, he beamed at him for a couple of long seconds.

"How was your summer, Tom?"

"It was splendid, sir," answered Tom, smiling brightly.

"Good, good," said Dippet, happily. He flipped through the sheets in his hands and finally picked one out. "Nothing but outstandings! Oh and one exceeds expectations. Hmm..I'm surprised. But no worries, I know Dumbledore has no problem accepting students with exceeds expectations. Do-do you wish to continue with Transfiguration?"

Tom paused. He hadn't thought about it before now. He knew he wanted to drop Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy, but would dropping Transfiguration be too suspicious for Dumbledore? He thought it best to keep Dumbledore far so he couldn't bombard him with more interrogations, but close so he could monitor his movements.

"I do, sir," he finally told Dippet.

* * *

The next couple of months really did fly on by. Now that Tom was a NEWT student, his hands were full with Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts homework and occasional essays for Herbology and Ancient Runes and Potions. Tom spent virtually every Hogsmeade weekend up at the school studying, having grown bored with the village. Though, he specifically instructed his Death Eaters to go ahead without him, for he didn't really enjoy their company nowadays. Somehow, his mind was always centered on the faint scratch marks that were forming along his arm, much like a puzzle. Every time a new one formed, he felt a slight tinge that went away quickly. He now took particular care in making sure that his sleeves were _always_ rolled down.

Feeling quite panicked, Tom began to visit the library again and reread _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. But no matter how many times he did this, he could not find any information on multiple horcruxes or the side effects or dangers in creating them. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to ask someone who knew about them. But who? They were such a dark art. Who at Hogwarts would know about them? His question was answered too quickly. _Of course_ Dumbledore knew all about them. What didn't Dumbledore know? But no. Tom would never go to him for this. That would be a suicide mission. He might as well just hand over his diary and ring as well.

Professor Dippet had taken such a strong liking to Tom that he beamed at him with such admiration every time he passed by him and always stopped to have a little chat about classes or the weather. Tom played along, knowing exactly what was behind all this. Dippet was very thankful to Tom for stopping last year's disasters by turning in Hagrid. Tom felt bad for the old man. He was too nervous for his own good. Who on earth had ever thought of making_ him_ the headmaster?

As the weeks went by, and Tom did more reading on horcruxes and immortality in general, he became more obsessed with the idea of becoming invincible. It would be his ultimate mission…the key to becoming the most powerful sorcerer in the world…the key to overcoming pathetic _Dumbledore_. But it would take a lot of planning and a lot more preparing. And he would have to find a clever way to investigate the weird marks on his arm.

At least Dumbledore had stopped calling Tom into his office for stupid little meetings where he could interrogate him for information. Those meetings always made Tom feel uneasy, which he hated. Now that Dumbledore rarely ever bothered him, he felt more comfortable in his own skin and could go about his day-to-day activities without the stress of dealing with Dumbledore. In class, Tom was as invisible as ever, though he sat at the very front. He thought it best not to draw much attention to himself, and so he kept quiet.

Tom's professors were most pleased with him that year. They had always been very impressed with him, though this year they emphasized it more, if it were at all possible. Professor Flitwick squeaked with excitement every time Tom walked into his classroom. Professor Beery marveled at Tom winning that award last year. Professor Merrythought continued to award Slytherin House points every time Tom answered a question correctly, which was pretty much every class. And Professor Slughorn…he adored Tom as though he was his own son. He went on and on about Tom to anyone who would listen. He often went completely speechless when Tom perfectly recited complex recipes for complex potions. It all became too much for him and on a cool November day, after class, he called Tom to stay behind.

"Is everything alright, professor?" asked Tom as the class filed out of the room.

"Oh yes, yes, everything is splendid, my boy!" exclaimed Slughorn. "I was just wondering… you see, I don't know if you've heard but I am quite famous for my special parties. They call it the Slug Club."

He chuckled to himself and then stopped to stare at Tom.

"Of course I've heard of them, professor," lied Tom.

"Yes," said Slughorn, smiling again. "Well, I was wondering if you would like to come along next time I throw a gathering. And bring Lestrange and Rowle too. Oh, and Avery. I do like him. I only invite the _special_ ones, you see…the ones who show potential to become something great. It's exclusive invitations only. And you, my boy, well I find it needless to say that you will go very far in life."

"I would consider it as an honour sir," said Tom, who beamed up at the professor, "To attend your club meetings."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Slughorn. "Well, look for my owl, I guess."

"Will do," said Tom.

Out in the hall, he thought long and hard about why he had just agreed to that. It would look good in front of Dumbledore, yes. But it would also be a bloody waste of his time. _But you're not going anywhere anytime soon,_ a voice told him. _You have all the time in the world! _

"True," said Tom aloud as he made his way to his next class.

His main missions in life were to master invincibility and become the most powerful sorcerer in the world…to overpower Dumbledore…and to master death itself. He had the rest of all eternity.


	18. The Slug Club

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination! **

* * *

_...His main missions in life were to master invincibility and become the most powerful sorcerer in the world…to overpower Dumbledore…and to master death itself. He had the rest of all eternity..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 18: THE SLUG CLUB**

December swooped in and brought with it a strong wave of cold air. The students woke on the first Saturday to several feet of snow that had fallen overnight. The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall was also bright and snowy. Professor Flitwick was already beginning to decorate the castle with Christmas decorations. Spirits were positive all around.

Tom grew more obsessed with immortality as the days went by. It was all he thought about and sometimes he stayed up all night because of it.

He began hosting Death Eater meetings that month and Lestrange was thrilled. Though, they held them later and later into the night for each time, there was at least one Slytherin who'd stayed behind in the common room while everyone else went to bed. Tom knew he'd need to find a new meeting spot soon. Maybe they'd return to their old days in the Trophy Room.

Classes proceeded as usual, though the workload this year was much heavier than Tom cared to admit. He found himself studying more than he'd ever done before, which left him with very little time to think about horcruxes or the unknown dangers of making them. He rotated Marvolo's ring around his left middle finger. The black stone gleamed in the candlelight. It was so beautiful.

On his next Death Eater meeting, Tom sat everyone down and they waited for him to speak. They had of course noticed the ring on his finger before and had kindly questioned him about where he'd gotten it, but he refused to give any of them the truth and therefore dismissed all of these questions.

"Professor Slughorn has informed me that he would like me to join his club," Tom announced.

The Death Eaters exchanged looks with each other and then quickly turned to him again.

"That includes you, Rowle," Tom added. "And you too, Lestrange."

"R-really?" said Lestrange, frowning. "H-he wants…_us_?"

"Yes," said Tom, turning to Avery. "You as well."

Avery said nothing.

"What should we do?" asked Rowle, darkly.

"We will attend his meetings," said Tom. "We will attend each and every one and we will make ourselves presentable and respectful. Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir," said Rowle and Lestrange together. The others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Right," said Tom, glancing at Avery who looked very grim and gaunt.

"Is that it then, sir?" said Rosier, who stifled a yawn quite unconvincingly. The watch on his wrist read 2:30 in the morning.

"Not quite," said Tom, coolly. "I have a concern I wish to voice."

No one said a word. All eyes were on Tom and all ears were listening intently.

"I do not like my name," said Tom, slowly.

There was a long pause.

"W-what d-do you m-mean, s-s-sir?" said Selwynn, quietly.

"I do not like my name," Tom repeated. "Tom Riddle. It is very unoriginal and peculiar."

"What should we do then, sir?" said Lestrange. "Would you like us to call you something else?"

"Even though, we already do, sir," added Rosier.

"Yeah, I don't think we've ever called you by your name, sir," nodded Lestrange.

"I understand," said Tom. "But our relationship has grown and matured over the years. And you have all proven your worth to me. We are no longer simply acquaintances or just _friends_. We are family. You listen to me and I take care of you. And therefore, you can be a little less formal with me from now on."

The Death Eaters exchanged smiles of relief.

"What should we call you then?" said Selwynn, who looked less pale now than he had a minute ago.

Tom waited for a long time. He stared around at his Death Eaters, examining the perplexed features of each pale face. He surveyed them for what felt like hours. And then, finally, very, very quietly, he said "Lord Voldemort."

There was another long pause.

"Wicked," whispered Rowle.

Selwynn nodded vigorously.

"_My lord_ is also acceptable," said Tom casually. "But you may continue to call me _sir_, if you wish."

"When did you come up with such a name, m-my lord?" said Davis.

"A long time ago," said Tom. "You all just weren't ready for it yet. But you are now."

"What's changed?" said Rosier. "My lord," he quickly added as Tom turned to look at him.

"My Death Eaters have proven their loyalty to me," said Tom, smiling slightly.

The others smiled as well.

"I plan to go public with this name one day," Tom continued. "I am going to rise up in the wizarding world. Voldemort is going to be a name that children will one day fear to speak. Adults too, perhaps. Depending on how far I go. But I plan to go far. Oh, _very_ far. I plan to go farther than any dark wizard has ever gone in history. And if you stick by me, which you will, I promise you great power, beyond any of your imaginations."

The Death Eaters beamed at him.

"We are forever at your service, my lord."

It was not Lestrange or Rowle who spoke up. It was Avery. And for the first time since Tom had known him, Avery looked him in the eye and did not stutter.

* * *

"So what have you been up to these days, Lestrange?" said Professor Slughorn as he bit into his turkey leg.

"I've been reading about the High Wizard Court, sir," said Lestrange casually.

"Ah yes, the Wizengamot," said Slughorn. "If I'm not mistaken, it predates the Ministry of Magic itself!"

"Does it?" said Rowle, who was stirring his rice with some vegetables.

"Oh yes, indeed," said Slughorn. "It has been in activity since at least 1544, I believe."

"You know so much about the wizarding world, sir," said Tom, who spoke up for the first time that evening.

The four of them were dining in Slughorn's office for their 4th Slug Club meeting, along with another fellow Slytherin that Slughorn had invited along—Nott. Tom had noticed him around the common room but had never taken interest in recruiting him. Though, Nott looked like he didn't have anything else in his life. Then again, so did everyone else in this castle.

"Well, I try to keep up with my news," said Slughorn, who beamed at Tom's compliment. "But you know, an interesting fact for you…the very first Minister of Magic, a Mr. Gamp, was also Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Interesting, eh?"

"Very, sir," said Lestrange, who sipped from his glass.

"Why, are you interested in working at the ministry, Lestrange?" said Slughorn, sitting back in his chair.

"Yes, sir," said Lestrange. "My father works in the ministry."

"You don't say!" said Slughorn, looking impressed. "Where in?"

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sir," said Lestrange, looking very proud.

"Ah wow!" said Slughorn. "I had no idea! Well my boy, if you decide to go down that path too, you will rise very high. Oh, yes indeed."

"Thank you, sir," said Lestrange, bowing his head once to Slughorn.

Beaming, Slughorn turned to look at Tom.

"What about you, Tom? What are your aspirations? Any career goals? Any path that seems to have a...a grip on you?"

Avery smiled down at his plate. He caught Tom's eye and they exchanged a very quick smile.

"I haven't thought much about it yet, sir," said Tom, coolly.

"Ah no worries," said Slughorn. "You have shown an aptitude for pretty much every subject at this school. All doors are open to you. You, my boy, will rise higher than any of us will ever in this lifetime. That is a guarantee! I would bet any money on it."

"Thank you, professor," said Tom, smiling slightly. "You are too kind."

"My pleasure!" hiccupped Slughorn. "Now boys, I think it is time you went to bed. 'Till the next meeting, then!"

"Goodnight professor," they said in unison and they slowly filed out of his office and headed back towards the dungeons.

"Hold it," said Tom, stopping Nott in the corridor. Nott turned to look at him. "I've seen you around. You are a seventh year."

"Yes," said Nott.

"You don't do much, do you? Why did Slughorn invite you into his club?"

"I can stun well," answered Nott. "He saw me stun Jonathan Buckley last week. I thought he was going to give me detention but instead-"

"Of Gryffindor?" said Tom, raising an eyebrow, excitement filling up in his chest.

"Yes," said Nott, warily. He paused. "I've seen you and your mates sneaking off sometimes. You don't notice me because I sit in the shadows of the common room. I don't ever go to sleep with everyone else. I like it best when the common room is deserted and quiet. Anyway, what do you lot do when you go out?"

"Things," answered Tom, who suddenly became very interested in Nott's character and saw great potential. "Come and see for yourself, if you'd like," he added. "Next Saturday at 1 o'clock at night."

"Will do," said Nott, bowing his head once.

He left Tom, Lestrange, Avery and Rowle standing in the corridor, open-mouthed.

"Is it safe to say…m-my lord?" said Lestrange, quietly.

"Oh yes," said Tom, coolly. "We have a new addition to our ranks."

* * *

Nott turned out to be Tom's favourite one yet. He was very enthusiastic about Tom's plans for the future and shared his beliefs on Mudbloods and Muggles. He too, wished to rise up in the world, though he admitted that he needed guidance for he wasn't sure where to start or how. But the fact that Tom was a year younger than him did not seem to intimidate him one bit.

"How did you do on your OWLs?" Tom asked him casually as Nott walked him to Defense Against the Dark Arts on the last day before the holidays.

"Pretty well," said Nott.

"I'm going to need more information than that," said Tom.

Nott gave him a questionable look.

"Your OWL results will tell me how serious you are about things that are important and how dedicated and committed you can be," Tom explained lazily.

"I got 6 Outstandings and 3 Exceeds Expectations," answered Nott.

"Not bad," said Tom, stopping by the classroom. "I'll see you at lunch."

"Yes, sir," said Nott. Tom made to enter the classroom but stopped dead in the doorway.

Professor Dumbledore was standing at the head of the class. Tom caused heavy traffic to collide in the hall. Students peered over heads to see what was going on.

"Well, come in, Tom," said Dumbledore.

"What...what are you doing here, professor?" said Tom, in a kindness that did not seem to fool Dumbledore. Nevertheless, he continued smiling at Tom.

"Unfortunately, Professor Merrythought is feeling a bit under the weather, so I will be taking over today's lesson," answered Dumbledore. "Come in, come in."

Tom moved forwards and took his seat, the others following closely behind.

"Today," said Dumbledore brightly. "We will be discussing Dementors."

"What are those?" said a Hufflepuff girl whom Tom did not recognize.

"Dementors are the most foulest creatures to walk this earth," said Dumbledore. "They feed on every good feeling-every happy memory, until the victim is left with nothing but their worst experiences. They can consume a person's soul, leaving their victims in a permanent vegetative state."

"What does that mean?" said another nervous girl, this time from Slytherin.

"It means, Ms. Kensington, that the person is left living as an empty shell...soulless, in other words."

"Blimey!" cried a Hufflepuff boy. "That's awful!"

"But luckily," said Dumbledore, "A charm exists that can repel Dementors. It is very complicated to learn and there are many grown wizards who have never learned it themselves. I doubt many of you will be able to learn it at this age, therefore we will study it theoretically. However, if you wish to learn it practically, I am sure Professor Merrythought would be happy to give you private lessons."

"The Patronus Charm," Tom spoke up.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"You know it?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "I've read about them."

"Well?" said Dumbledore. "Indulge us in your knowledge, Mr. Riddle."

Tom, who was a little surprised at hearing Dumbledore address him as 'Mr. Riddle', cleared his throat.

"A Patronus charm acts like a sort of shield, not killing the Dementor but simply driving it away. The Patronus is the magical manifestation of good will and happiness and provides varied levels of protection against the Dementor's influence, based on the castor's strength as a wizard."

"Well said," said Dumbledore, simply.

Tom did not mention how beautiful he thought Dementors were and how he hoped to one day work with them.

Dumbledore continued on with the lesson, without another word to Tom. Tom sensed that Dumbledore was angry with him about something. . . there was no need for him to ask what. He knew perfectly well that Dumbledore strongly suspected that Tom had framed poor Hagrid. He would have to be even more careful from now on.

After the lesson, a Hufflepuff boy accidentally knocked over the table, causing Tom's books to fly everywhere. He bent down to help him pick them up, but Tom gave him one of his frightening death-stares that made the boy stumble backwards. He jumped to his feet and ran out of the room, joining his friends. Dumbledore had already left too as his transfiguration classroom was on the other side of the castle.

"You go on," Tom told Lestrange who stood nearby, waiting. "I'll catch you up."

"Yes, my lord," said Lestrange and he exited the room, leaving Tom alone in the classroom.

As he picked up the last of his books, he caught two voices whispering out in the corridor. Slowly rising to his feet, Tom crept across the classroom and pressed his ear against the door.

"...I'm just sorry I have to replace her," said Dippet's tired voice.

"Yes, it's a shame," said Dumbledore. "She's a very good teacher."

"_Very_ good," agreed Dippet. "But old age comes with fatigue and I suppose she's been here for a long time...Merrythought."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Any idea on when you'll start looking for a replacement?"

"Ah I don't want to worry about that just yet," said Dippet.

"Well, best not delay it too long," said Dumbledore and their footsteps began to descend from the hall.

"Of course not!" said Dippet's now faded, but slightly agitated voice.

Tom stayed in the deserted classroom for a long time, going over what he'd just heard. There was going to be a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. He'd never told anyone this, but he'd often thought about teaching the subject himself. If Dippet found a new teacher next year, Tom doubted he'd be able to get the post just the following year. It would be better for him if Merrythought retired after he graduated, so that he, Tom, could replace her instead.

Tom instructed his Death Eaters to go home for the holidays again that year. And so, once again, he was the only Slytherin to stay at school. Only a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had stayed, and no Gryffindors at all.

Dumbledore avoided Tom all throughout the break, which Tom preferred as opposed to the interrogations in previous years. He knew Dumbledore didn't like him, and he didn't like Dumbledore either. Dippet, on the other hand, marveled at Tom every time he crossed his path, as did Professor Slughorn. In fact, Slughorn's affection for Tom only seemed to increase as the days went by. This gave Tom a rather odd idea. As he sat down for Christmas dinner with the teachers and listened to Professor Slughorn go on about the four founders of Hogwarts and everything that he knew about them, Tom thought long and hard about his idea. _Of course!_ Why hadn't it crossed his mind before? Slughorn was the ideal person to go to about this. He was in Slytherin and he seemed to know a fair bit about magic. Surely he would know about Dark Arts as well. And he really seemed to like Tom. _And_ he was easily manipulated. But it would have to be carefully planned. _Very_ carefully planned.

After Christmas dinner, Tom decided to take another long walk about the castle. He hadn't done that in what felt like a long time. He walked around the Trophy Room, the Prefects bathroom on the fifth floor, the girls bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was, and all the way to the seventh floor. He strode slowly along the corridors, thinking about horcruxes and immortality. He needed to find a place where he would be able to hide his horcruxes and no one would be able to find them. He needed to find out the full effects of making more than one horcrux and if it was dangerous to do so. But most importantly, he needed to find a place where his horcruxes would be safe to keep.

And then, just as Tom thought about this, he heard a very low sound. He froze and spun around, looking for the source of it. A door seemed to be materialising on the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The door opened with a little clang and Tom peered inside. There was a large room that Tom had never seen before, but he knew exactly what it was. He'd read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_, but hadn't ever dreamed of finding it, as it was simply unplottable. The Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. The place where everything is hidden. Tom glanced around at the piles of junk hidden by generations upon generations of Hogwarts students. There were piles upon piles of books and large cages with weird-legged creatures and old furniture that was broken and useless and old school robes as well. Flying catapults, Fanged Frisbees, rusting swords and bloodstained axes...a couple of broomsticks, various trophies, metalware, a skipping record turnable, some portrait frames, and disassembled suits of armour. Anything and everything you could dream of. It was all hidden in there.

A powerful wave of joy, such that he had not felt since he killed his father, swept over Tom.

* * *

"He will be inviting us for the next party the week after next," Tom informed Lestrange, Rowle, Nott, and Avery at the next Death Eater meeting after the Christmas holidays. They nodded in understanding.

"W-what do you all discuss at these meetings, my lord?" said Rosier.

"All sorts of things," answered Tom, lazily. "Anyway, you're doing an excellent job, Lestrange...kissing up to him like that. Keep it up. Rowle, Avery, you could step it up a bit."

"Yes, my lord," said Rowle and Avery together.

There was a pause.

"He thinks I should go into the Ministry of Magic," laughed Tom. The others chuckled along with him.

"I almost choked on my juice when I heard him say that," admitted Lestrange.

"Me too!" laughed Avery, who had miraculously gotten over his stuttering problem when around Tom.

"Yes, well if only poor old Slughorn knew that I am Slytherin's descendant," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"I bet he'd pee himself," said Rowle.

The boys laughed hard for a couple of long minutes. Tom thought about it as they laughed. It was rather comical. What _would_ dear old Slughorn think, if he found out that everyday, the Great Salazar Slytherin's last remaining descendent and heir was sitting right next to him?


	19. Horcruxes

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.**

**I am simply having fun with my imagination. **

* * *

_...The boys laughed hard for a couple of long minutes. Tom thought about it as they laughed. It was rather comical. What _would_ dear old Slughorn think, if he found out that everyday, the Great Salazar Slytherin's last remaining descendent and heir was sitting right next to him...?_

* * *

**CHAPTER 19: HORCRUXES**

The next couple of weeks, Tom spent every possible minute watching Professor Slughorn carefully. He watched his every move, listened to every word he uttered, and stored it all into the massive tank of knowledge that was his brain. He even followed him around sometimes, eavesdropping on his conversations with other students or fellow staff members. Slughorn spent a great deal of time trailing after little Professor Flitwick, who, Tom noticed, really did not find this amusing. He often dodged Slughorn whenever he could and darted off to Hogsmeade or to have a chat with Dumbledore.

"…Ah yes, pineapples! My favourite kind!" Slughorn beamed at Professor Kettleburn one day outside of Greenhouse 4.

"Yes, yes, well professor, I'm afraid I _really_ must get going…classes to teach, you know," said Kettleburn, hurrying off into the greenhouse.

"That's quite alright, we'll finish this at dinner then!" Slughorn called after him.

"Horace!"

Slughorn turned around to see Dumbledore approaching him. Tom hid behind a wall but continued to eavesdrop.

"I heard that you added another member to your club," said Dumbledore. "A Ravenclaw girl by the name of—"

"Phyllis Porpington, yes," said Slughorn, who was positively beaming up at Dumbledore. "A 7th year."

"Yes, well that's my concern," said Dumbledore.

"What is?"

"She's in Ravenclaw!"

"And?"

"Horace, you have students from Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw but none from Gryffindor. We can't be discriminating, now can we?"

Slughorn frowned.

"We must show a good example," continued Dumbledore, "You know, for the students of course."

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Slughorn. "It was unintentional of course, Albus. I only meant to select students in whom I saw great potential to become something great, you know. I didn't even think about which houses they were in when I chose them."

"I'm sure you didn't, Horace, but it's the way it looks that concerns me."

"Very well, Dumbledore, I will keep an eye out for a special Gryffindor."

Dumbledore sighed heavily and walked away from Slughorn, who began muttering to himself as he exited the hall.

The next day, Tom made his way to Slughorn's office alone, clutching a box of crystallised pineapple he brought along for after dinner. As he walked out of the dungeons late in the evening, the Bloody Baron floated by him and said,

"Off to make trouble again, are we, sir?"

"Shut up," said Tom, darkly.

He, Tom, had spent a great deal of time observing Slughorn and felt that he was ready for this. He put on his best robes for the occasion and fixed his hair perfectly. He caught sight of his appearance in a mirror in Slughorn's office and winced slightly. He really was the spitting image of his father. How frightening.

"Come on, sir, let's eat!" said Lestrange after everyone had arrived.

The boys, along with Ms. Porpington, two 7th year male additions from Slytherin, the odd 5th year from Hufflepuff, and, to Tom's horror, a new _Gryffindor _addition—_Jonathan Buckley_—took their seats along the square table in the middle of the room. Slughorn seated himself at the head and Tom sat not too far from him.

They dined on shepherd's pie that night and discussed house elves, goblins, and other half-breeds. Tom mostly kept quiet and watched Slughorn, laughing at all his jokes and smiling whenever he met his eye. Buckley didn't seem to be enjoying himself much for he mostly kept quiet as well, and took particular care in avoiding Tom's gaze. When they'd finally reached dessert, Tom pulled out the pineapple box and Slughorn was completely taken aback at the sight of it. He lowered his wine glass and beamed at Tom. Buckley made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a cough.

"Come now, boys, let's play nicely," said Slughorn, noticing this. "I understand of course, Mr. Buckley, why you don't want to speak to Mr. Nott. But it was all good fun, you know. Besides, you both have shown me that you possess fabulous magical talents and what better way to show that than to stun someone?"

Buckley glared at Slughorn but said nothing.

The conversations went on for hours and before long, it was 20 to eleven. Though, Tom was the only one to notice for a while. Everyone else were enjoying themselves too much to even glance at the clock.

"Sir," Tom finally said, interrupting a scandalous story that Avery had been telling about the residents of Hogsmeade. "You're having a good term, yes?"

"Of course, Tom, of course!" said Slughorn, raising his glass to take a sip. "Lovely students this year. Lovely students indeed."

"Sir," said Tom again, keeping his voice cool and casual. "Is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you!" said Slughorn, who was now rummaging in the box of crystallised pineapple. For a split second, Tom thought he saw Slughorn wink at him. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy. More knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Tom gave him a small smile while the others, apart from Buckley and Porpington, laughed approvingly.

"…what with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way. You're quite right, it is my favourite—" The other boys chuckled again. "—I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years."

There was laughter again, coming this time from the two 7th year Slytherin boys more than anyone else. They seemed to be eyeing Tom rather admiringly, though Tom barely noticed. He was still watching Slughorn carefully.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," Tom finally said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

Lestrange, Rowle, Avery, and Nott howled with laughter and the others joined in as well, though _they_ didn't know the exact reason why this was so funny.

"Nonesense," said Slughorn briskly, "Couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom. I've never been wrong about a student yet. I told you, I'd bet any number of galleons on it, haven't I?"

The small golden clock standing upon his desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay in by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Tom gave them the signal which meant "Don't wait up," and himself approached a table in the corner of the office and began to examine an hourglass that stood perched up on it. It was a while before Slughorn noticed Tom's presence in the room, and he did a sort of double-take and hiccupped, still holding his wine glass in his hand.

"You look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, casually. "You don't want to be caught out of bed at this late hour…"

Tom smiled at him.

"Something on your mind, Tom?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom, coolly. "I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"Ask away then, m'boy, ask away!" said Slughorn, brightly.

"Well you see, sir, I was in the library the other night… in the restricted section, and I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic," Tom began to slowly circle around the room, keeping his hands behind his back so that Slughorn wouldn't notice Marvolo's gleaming black-stoned ring on his hand.

"Go on," said Slughorn, warily.

"It's called, as I understand it…a horcrux."

"I…I…b-beg y-your p-p-p-pardon?" said Slughorn, his eyes widening with shock, his jaw dropping.

"Horcrux," Tom repeated simply. "You see, I…I came across the term while r-reading and I didn't f-fully…understand it."

Tom thought that adding a bit of stuttering would make him appear more convincing...vulnerable and hesitant.

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" he finally asked.

_Right_, thought Tom. _You _know_ why I'm asking, don't pretend, old man._

Nonetheless, he answered, "Not exactly, sir. I just came across the term accidentally."

"No…well….I'm not sure what it is that you're reading, Tom, this is very dark stuff, very dark indeed."

Tom concentrated hard on keeping his tone flattery but casual when he spoke. He had been working toward this moment for weeks, and would not leave this office without the information that he so desperately desired.

"Which is why I came to _you_," he finally said, giving Slughorn a small but complimentary smile.

"W-well," said Slughorn, avoiding Tom's gaze but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallised pineapple, "A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed a part of their soul."

"But I don't understand how that works, sir," said Tom, slowly.

He worked very hard to control his voice, trying to suppress the excitement that was rising up in his chest. He would first give Slughorn a chance to explain the concept, so as not to make it seem like he, Tom, already knew all about it, or better yet, had had some experience with it.

"O-one splits one's soul and h-hides a part of it in a-an object," said Slughorn, whose wine glass began to slightly shake in his trembling hand. "By doing so, you are protected, should you reattach and your body be destroyed."

"Protected?" Tom repeated, moving closer to where Slughorn was standing.

"T-the p-part of your s-soul that is h-hidden lives on-n," said Slughorn, slowly. "In other words, you c-cannot die."

Tom tried hard to suppress the glint of red light that he could feel cross his eyes. He moved away from Slughorn and turned to face the fireplace instead.

"But how does one split his soul, sir?" asked Tom casually. He was getting closer to the question he _really_ wanted to ask but knew he couldn't simply blurt it out. He had to work and build up to it. He began to absentmindedly stroke Marvolo's ring on his finger as he stared out into the flames.

"I think you already know the answer to that one, Tom," said Slughorn, warily.

"Murder," said Tom into the flames, his back still to Slughorn. He began to stroke the faint scratches that were now on both his arms.

"Y-yes," said Slughorn, not noticing this. "Killing rips the soul apart. 'Tis a violation against nature."

Tom couldn't help but notice that Slughorn spoke the last 5 words with greater emphasis.

"What I don't understand though," said Tom, turning to look at Slughorn. "Just out of curiosity—I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven—?"

"Seven!" yelped Slughorn. "Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing _one_ person? And in any case…bad enough to divide the soul…but to rip it into _seven pieces!_..."

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now. He was gazing at Tom as though he had never seen him plainly before. He looked to be regretting entering into the conversation at all. But Tom wasn't finished yet. He just needed one more piece of information out of Slughorn before he could let him go.

"Sir," said Tom quickly before Slughorn could say another word. "Sir, if… if one splits one's soul, d-does…does it perhaps leave a mark?"

"Why, of course!" said Slughorn, looking very uncomfortable now. "It's the soul we're talking about here. Of course it would leave a mark."

"But you said you'd be protected though, wouldn't you?"

"In the _soul_ sense, yes," said Slughorn. "You…your physical appearance may change…it may decay in some ways and it may strengthen in others. But your soul will be the strong point. You do understand that killing is a violation of nature, yes? Therefore the price that the killer pays in this case is a physical transformation. The more Horcruxes they make, the more they transform."

"But it is harmless?" Tom pressed on.

"Yes, it's—" Slughorn froze. Tom realized in that instant that he had reached the limit. "Of course…this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic…"

"Yes, sir, of course," said Tom quickly.

"And all the same, Tom…keep it quiet, what I've told—that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about..._Horcruxes_. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know…Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it…"

"I won't say a word, sir," Tom assured him. He made to leave, but then turned around at the door and glanced at Slughorn one last time.

"It'll be our little secret."

The red gleam was back in his eyes.


	20. Post Hogwarts

**Author's Note: Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling. **

**Thanks**

* * *

_"...I won't say a word, sir," Tom assured him. He made to leave, but then turned around at the door and glanced at Slughorn one last time._

_"It'll be our little secret."_

_The red gleam was back in his eyes..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 20: POST HOGWARTS**

Tom's seventh year at Hogwarts had to have been his best one. First and foremost, he did not have to return to Wool's Orphanage just before starting his last year. He spent his holiday break amidst the wizarding world and therefore could not have asked for a better summer. Second, his seventh year seemed to be his shining golden moment. He was made Head Boy and received a Medal for Magical Merit. He passed his apparition test with flawless efforts. His teachers declared that he had been the best Hogwarts student they'd seen in years. Even Dippet publicly announced that he was sad to see Tom go. Tom however, had other plans.

It just so happened to be that Professor Merrythought had decided to stay for Tom's last year. Now that she really was retiring, and Dippet was in search for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Tom was ready to step in. With his perfect student record, countless achievements, and excellent reputation at school, he knew it would be almost too easy to convince Dippet to give him the job. He, Tom, _was _after all the very best for the job. He knew the Dark Arts like the back of his hand, and went further than any other student in the school had…perhaps, even further than Dumbledore had at his age.

Tom did not forget about his mission to achieve full immortality. After that conversation that he'd had with Slughorn the previous year, he relaxed a bit about the faint scratches on his arm and as a result, they stopped hurting. He now knew that he was perfectly safe to continue with his path and that nothing and no one could stop him. Though, Slughorn had grown very anxious around Tom after that night. For one, he'd stopped hosting Slug Club meetings. And second, he stopped marvelling at Tom's successes and even greeted him rarely. He avoided him in the halls and sometimes pretended that he could not hear Tom answering a question.

During the Easter break, while NEWT students were busy revising for the upcoming exams, Tom sought down a particular ghost with whom he'd been meaning to speak for months. He had spent most of the year searching through books for historical artefacts that he would be able to use for his next horcruxes, and one particular object had caught his attention.

Helena Ravenclaw was floating about a deserted corridor on the seventh floor, not too far from the entrance to the Room of Requirement, which Tom was certain only he knew about. Helena stopped at the sight of him, looking very frightened. Tom approached her coolly, with his hands in his cloak pockets. He was gripping his wand tightly.

"Hello," he said to the ghost. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Helena, warily. "Lovely."

"I've actually come here to talk to _you_, Helena," said Tom.

"What about?" said Helena, nervously. When Tom didn't answer, she pressed on. "What do you want with me?"

"I seek your mother's diadem," Tom declared confidently.

Helena gasped at the mention of it.

"It's missing," she spat. "It's gone! I don't know anything about it!"

"Oh yes you do," said Tom, smiling slightly.

"No I don't!" cried Helena. "Besides, it doesn't belong to…I mean, it… it's been missing for centuries now! There is no one out there who knows its location!"

"But _you_ do," said Tom, coolly.

Helena froze in the air.

"What do you want with it?" she said quietly after a moment's silence.

"I simply want to see it," said Tom. "And then I will hide it right back where it was so that no one can find it."

"How can I trust that you will do this?" said Helena in an even smaller voice.

"Do you know who I am, Helena?" said Tom, who now took a step towards the ghost.

"Of course I know!" she cried. "Everyone in the school knows you."

"Well then you have nothing to worry about!" said Tom, brightly. "I won't do anything to it. I'm just very curious about old wizarding artefacts."

Helena did not speak for a while.

"You know," continued Tom. "I'm going to tell you a little secret…to show you that I trust you. Perhaps then, you will see that you can trust me as well?"

He gave her a small grin which made the ghost relax a bit.

"My mother's name was Gaunt," said Tom, quietly.

Helena's jaw dropped. She knew exactly what this meant.

"You—you're…"

"That's right," said Tom. "I am the last remaining descendant of the Great Salazar Slytherin…your mother's old companion."

"You can't be," she whispered.

"But I am," said Tom. "And I have never told anyone this. It is my little secret…something that I'm very proud of. But I trust _you,_ Helena. I trust you to keep my secret."

Helena gave Tom a small smile.

"But what do you want with my mother's diadem?" she whispered.

Tom took another step towards her.

"I told you, I just want to see it. That is all that interests me. Your family interests me very much. _You _interest me…very…much."

Helena's smile broadened.

And then, to Tom's delight, she came closer and quickly whispered the exact directions to finding the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. Tom whispered in her ear that he wished she were alive so that he could show her how grateful he was that she'd helped him. This only made her beam even more at him.

Finally, graduation arrived. On that very night, after the celebrations of the Hogwarts Alumni, Tom approached Dippet's office to have the talk he had been planning for all year. Dippet was quite surprised to see Tom at his doorstep. They sat at the desk and exchanged a few words about the celebrations over tea and biscuits. Then, Tom dived right into the reason why he was there, while Dippet listened without interrupting. He didn't seem at all surprised by what Tom was requesting. Tom strongly suspected that Dumbledore must have warned him. Though, it amazed him how_ Dumbledore_ could possibly know about his plans.

"Feeling scared of letting go, are we?" said Dippet, who was smiling at Tom from across the desk after Tom had finished talking.

"Sir?" said Tom, frowning slightly.

"It's only natural to be afraid to leave the place that has been your home for so long. Graduation is a scary thing. But you have so many doors open for you. Surely you want to go and explore—?"

"No sir, that's not it at all," said Tom quickly. "I've just always loved this particular subject and I thought, since Professor Merrythought is retiring, that maybe I ought to give it a go."

Dippet considered Tom for a moment.

"I mean," Tom went on, "You've known me for a long time. It's not as if I'm a complete stranger. You know who I am and how I am."

"That _is _true," said Dippet.

"It certainly saves you time trying to figure out a complete stranger and whether or not they'll be a good teacher."

"Yes, it does," said Dippet, who was now looking down at his fingers on the table.

"I feel like I've learned a lot from Professor Merrythought," Tom continued. "And I know that I could do this job well. And…sir, I…I really want it. I really do."

Dippet met his eyes and smiled at him.

"I am touched by your words, Tom, I really am. And I know you are a very dedicated wizard and would commit to anything. However...I'm afraid, and it is with great regret that I tell you this, believe me...but I'm afraid I must decline your request at this time."

He gave Tom another smile, though he looked more tired now than before.

"May I ask why, sir?" said Tom, who could feel his voice slightly trembling. He covered it up with a cough and then straightened up in his seat again, trying hard to suppress the burning hatred he felt for Dumbledore.

"Well you see, Tom, teaching at Hogwarts is no piece of cake. I'm sure you've noticed that most of the teachers here are of far greater age than you are, Tom."

"Yes," said Tom, who found that controlling his voice at that moment was easier said than done.

"Well, seventeen is a bit young to start teaching, don't you think?"

"I don't think age should have anything to do with it, sir," said Tom, defiantly.

"No, of course experience and knowledge are the most important qualities I look for in any job applicant," said Dippet, quickly. "But I still stand by my decision. You have only just graduated, Tom! Go out there and live a little bit! You may of course return in a few years' time and reapply. I will be more than happy to consider you. But I think that for now, you are still too young and naïve to know what you really want from life. Do you understand what I'm getting at, Tom?"

"I think I do, sir," said Tom, trying hard to suppress his frustration with the headmaster.

"Good," smiled Dippet. "I'm sure we will meet again soon."

Tom thought that if there were a time he hated Dumbledore more than in that moment, he could not remember it. He walked the castle corridors silently, ignoring the loud cheers from the Hogwarts alumni who were congratulating each other on their successes. Over by the dungeons, the Death Eaters were waiting for him.

"Well?" they said as he approached them. Tom shook his head, his hands still in his pockets of his dress robes.

"Blimey," said Lestrange, looking perplexed. "I was so sure—"

"Don't worry about it," Tom told him. "I will reapply in a few years' time. Anyway, are you packed?"

"Yep," said Lestrange quickly. "We all are."

"Good," said Tom, looking around at his Death Eaters. They had all grown so much. He could remember a time when stuttering Avery pressed him to play Exploding Snap in the Slytherin Common Room. He could remember all of their initiation tests…the Hogsmeade incidents and all the Trophy Room meetings as though they were only yesterday. And there was so much ahead of them. Tom could feel it.

"I suppose this is it then," said Davis.

"Yes, it is," said Tom, coolly.

The Death Eaters exchanged a few looks.

"Not for us, though," Tom added. "This is only just the beginning of the rest of our lives. We have a lot coming for us. You'll see soon enough."

"My Lord Voldemort," said Selwynn, quietly. "I don't think I've ever told you how…grateful…I am…for your kindness and your wisdom all these years."

"Stop it," said Tom. "This is not goodbye, my Death Eaters. This is only temporary farewell. I feel sure we will meet again sooner than you expect. Until then, remember your loyalties and remember: We are each other's only family."

* * *

The next couple of years flew on by. It had taken Tom some time to find the exact spot in the Albanian forest that Helena Ravenclaw had described, but once he found it, the diadem was in clear view. Wasting no time, he killed the first peasant he could find, an old Muggle man, and performed the complicated procedure. He then returned to his room in Knockturn Alley and hid the diadem underneath one of the floorboards, where his diary was also hidden. To this day, he still wore Marvolo's ring for it was so small he didn't want it accidentally getting lost. He continued with his search for a place to hide it.

Over the years, the Ministry of Magic had contacted Tom several times with various job offers. The last he'd heard, Lestrange was working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as Slughorn had predicted all those years ago. However, Tom turned down these jobs and instead accepted Caractacus Burke's job offer to persuade witches and wizards to part with their valuable magical heirlooms. Everyone Tom knew was quite surprised to find out where he was working. They thoroughly questioned him about it every time he bumped into them, but he merely shrugged and explained that the job was very good.

He did not contact his Death Eaters for a long time. He had told them to spend these few years of silence trying to rise up in the Wizarding World…to gain good contacts and to get so-called prestigious jobs. He knew that one day, this would be very useful. But for now, he needed this time off to continue his search for more potential horcruxes and hiding places.

Not long after Tom had tracked down the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, his right arm began to show faint marks like the ones on his left arm. But, no longer worried, Tom continued down this path, eager to conquer immortality. Living above Borgin and Burke's, he took it upon himself to read each and every one of the books the shop sold. He even started practicing legiliments on old Borgin, though Borgin was not quite aware of it, for Tom always wiped his memories afterwards. All Borgin knew was that there were many occasions in which he awoke not remembering what he'd done the previous night. And Tom, being the clever and cunning-minded wizard that he was, would always make him tea and suggest he go and lie down for the day.

"But I've got to keep the shop open, boy," grumbled Borgin as Tom helped him up the stairs to his room. "Got to make a living..."

"I'll keep it open, sir," Tom assured him.

"Ah dear boy, I don't know what I would do without you. And frankly, I don't know what's happening with me. Must be old age or something...did I ever tell you that I once dreamed of playing professional quidditch? Ha! Imagine me on a broomstick! Thousands of people cheering m'name. Say, you look rather sick yourself, boy. Maybe it's a virus we've got? Maybe ought to go to St. Mungo's?"

"Just lie down, sir," said Tom, pulling a blanket over the old man and making his way to the door.

"You sure you alright boy? You really don't look well."

"I'm fine," answered Tom without looking at Borgin. He shut the door behind him and glanced at the cracked mirror at the end of the corridor before climbing back down the stairs. Borgin was right. Tom really did not look like himself anymore. His face had gotten paler than it had ever been, if it were at all possible. He was beginning to show faint scratch marks on his cheeks and his eyes looked very tired and gaunt.

He put on his traveling cloak and hung up a "CLOSED" sign on the front door before locking up and descending down Knockturn Alley. At the end of the alleyway, he turned around and disapparated.

He arrived on the edge of a cliff amidst a thick fog that stretched its wings for miles. His cloak flowed behind him as he made his way over to the little shack where he'd once cursed his uncle. Snakes were slithering on and about the land and they hissed words of welcome to Tom as he passed by them. He pulled out his wand, muttered _Lumos_, and let himself into the dark and filthy shack. He looked around, remembering it as though it were only yesterday that he'd met Morfin Gaunt there. The floors creaked beneath his feet as he made his way over to the filthy armchair at the back of the room. He pushed it aside with his wand and knelt down, pulling one of the floorboards off with another flick of his wand. Then, he carefully slid Marvolo's ring off of his finger, eyed it for a moment, and then placed it below the floorboard, sealing it with another flick of his wand.

He'd distinctly felt it vibrate before it parted from his touch.


	21. The Locket And The Cup

**SURPRISE! TO CELEBRATE 2000 VIEWS, HERE'S CHAPTER 21. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT AND I'LL UPDATE IN 3 DAYS! **

**Author's Note: Again, the dialogue between Tom and Hepzibah Smith is copied exactly from Half Blood Prince, so as to maintain accuracy. However, Tom's included thoughts are solely from my imagination. **

**PS. I had LOTS of fun writing this chapter! I think you'll enjoy it very much. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling.**

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* * *

_...he carefully slid Marvolo's ring off of his finger, eyed it for a moment, and then placed it below the floorboard, sealing it with another flick of his wand._

_He'd distinctly felt it vibrate before it parted from his touch..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 21: THE LOCKET AND THE CUP**

Tom awoke early in the morning and lay in bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling. He was very excited for today—so excited that he could hardly contain himself. He could feel his diary vibrating slightly beneath the floorboard. His Horcruxes always seemed to feel what he felt, which made sense seeing as how they _were_ alive.

It was late fall, 1950. Tom had been working at Borgin and Burke's for 6 years now. He had shown excellence in obtaining magical heirlooms from Borgin's and Burke's customers. It was virtually effortless for him, and so he spent a great deal of time searching for what would be his next Horcruxes. One of the customers, a fat old lady by the name of Hepzibah Smith, was a regular. On his last visit, Tom had listened to her rant about the founders of Hogwarts, and she let it slip that she owned some objects that would interest him. Today was the day he would find out more.

Finally getting up, Tom crept out of his room and knocked on Borgin's bedroom door. He cracked it open and peeked in. Borgin was sitting at the window ledge, muttering incoherently to himself.

"Are you alright, sir?" said Tom, opening the door wider now.

Borgin jumped up and stared at him.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, boy," he said, uncertainly. "Where have you come from?"

"I live here, sir," Tom reminded him, watching him with great fascination. Legiliments was really making Borgin lose his mind. How ironic. But Tom was not about to stop practicing on him now. He had grown to be so skilled at it and could definitely see it being useful in the future.

"Right," said Borgin, sitting back down on the window ledge.

"I am off to see Ms. Smith," Tom informed Burke after he'd left Borgin's room.

"Alright," grunted Burke. "Oy, where's Borgin?"

"H-he's feeling under the weather today, sir," said Tom, innocently.

"Damn," spat Burke. "He's getting old, him. I'm afraid he won't last much longer…been acting real funny lately…can't remember anything anymore."

"It's a shame," said Tom.

He returned to his bedroom and combed his slightly longer black hair now. He put on his best black suit and straightened up, carefully placing his wand in the pocket of his traveling cloak which he threw over himself seconds later. He looked away from the cracked mirror and thought long and hard. If Hepzibah was really telling the truth, then Tom would successfully secure two more Horcruxes now.

* * *

"Tom! I'm so happy you came!" exclaimed Hepzibah from her rocking chair. Tom closed the front door and approached her. She was wearing an elaborate ginger wig today and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. Hokey, her stinking house elf, had just finished lacing her fleshy feet into tight satin slippers and she kicked her away impatiently and smiled brightly at Tom. "Come in, come in!"

Tom picked his way through the cramped room so full of worthless objects. He bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing it with his lips in a soft kiss.

"I brought you flowers," he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.

"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah.

She reached for the empty vase that had been standing ready on the nearest little table. _How_ _convenient_, Tom thought.

"You do spoil this old lady, Tom," said Hepzibah as she placed the flowers into the vase and conjured up some water with her wand. "Sit down, sit down…where's Hokey? Ah…"

The house elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.

"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah. "I know you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times…"

Tom smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked, battering her lashes.

"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," lied Tom. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair—"

"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.

"I am ordered here because of them," said Tom, quietly. He had rehearsed this in his room just before he'd come there. It had to go well. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire—"

"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! It's that thing we talked about last week, do you remember? You can keep a secret, can't you Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."

"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Tom quietly, covering the excitement that was building up in his chest now.

Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.

"I had Hokey bring it out for me…Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure…in fact, bring both, while you're at it…"

"Here, madam," squeaked the house elf, clambering her way through the piles of tables and footstools, holding two small leather boxes one on top of the other.

"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf and laying them on her lap. "I think you'll like this, Tom…oh, if my family knew I was showing you…They can't wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the lid of the top box to reveal what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Tom stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings.

"A badger," Tom murmured, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was…?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. He willed himself not to curse her there and then. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here…"

She hooked the cup back off Tom's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Tom's face as the cup was taken away. It really was beautiful. And it was going to be his. He had thought many times before of taking one object per founder of Hogwarts… but they were very difficult to come by. This old hag was proving to be more useful than Tom had thought.

"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "Where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are—take that away now, Hokey."

The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap.

"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see…Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone…"

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There, upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket. Tom reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light that was emitted from the window. He stared at it.

"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.

"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted apparently, at the sight of Tom gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it but had no idea of its value—"

Tom's eyes flashed scarlet at the words and his knuckles whitened on the locket's chain. He knew exactly what woman she was talking about. Burke had told him a few years before that he'd had the privilege of meeting Salazar Slytherin's descendant, Merope Gaunt, shortly before her death…that she had had the habit of stealing things from home and selling them to him. What he did not know however was that he'd just so happened to have hired her son, who now lived under his roof for 6 years and counting.

"—I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are…pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe…"

She reached out to take the locket back. Tom let it slide through his fingers and watched it return back to its red velvet cushion. He would see it again very soon. He was sure of it.

"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"

She looked him full in the face and, after a moment's hesitation, her foolish smile faltered.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Tom, quietly. "Yes, I'm very well…"

Little did Hepzibah know that at that moment, Tom was plotting her death carefully. He already knew which spells he would use to obtain the Slytherin Locket and the Hufflepuff Cup, but it was the damn house elf that was the problem. He would have to find a way to use her to take blame for Hepzibahs' death.

"Are you sure—" said Hepzibah, frowning at Tom. "I thought—but a trick of light, I suppose—"

Tom turned away from her. She had no doubt seen the momentary red gleam in his eyes.

"Here, Hokey," she said suddenly. "Take these away and lock them up again…the usual enchantments."

"Yes, madam," said the scrawny house elf.

For a split second, its bulging eyes met Tom's, and Tom was sure that the elf had seen the manic gleam in his own eyes.

It was easier than he thought it would be. Two days later, at a very late hour, Tom turned up at Hepzibah's house, surprising her. He stunned the house elf which froze and toppled to the floor. Then, he pointed his wand at the old hag, who stood in the corner of the room, looking pale and frightened, and muttered _Avada Kedavra_ in between laughs. The flash of light threw Hepzibah against the window which shattered, its shards of glass cutting into her flesh. Tom paused, having a moment of inspiration. It would of course be better to dispose of the body completely . . . if only he had some kind of a snake on hand that could just eat her up there and then. Laughing to himself at his cunning humour, he turned to the house elf that lay frozen amidst a pile of books that had clattered onto the floor. Tom modified her memory and imperio'd her. Then, as she sat in the corner, muttering to herself, Tom broke through the enchantments that had been placed on the two leather boxes, and retrieved the cup and the locket.

* * *

A week later, Tom was drinking mead down at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley one afternoon, and skimming through the Daily Prophet newspaper in his hands, when he nearly choked on his drink. Wiping his chin from what had spilled, he brought the paper closer to a candle and read carefully:

_"Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin 1st class, and who has recently been made Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has been announced the newly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry late Thursday evening. Having taught at the school for many years now, he prepares to succeed Armando Dippet, who died last week, and carry on his legacy. _

_"Armando was a dear friend of mine and he will be dearly missed. I will therefore take extra care of his school and ensure that it remains the lovely home that it has been for generations of students to this day," Dumbledore told Daily Prophet reporters last night. _

_In an exclusive interview published last month, Minister for Magic Wilhelmina Tuft stated that she would be delighted to have Dumbledore succeed her when she retires next year. However, Dumbledore has already turned down the offer once before, and his opinion has not changed since._

_"I'm afraid I have very little interest in a career in politics," said Dumbledore. "My heart has always been and will always be with Hogwarts."_

_In other news, an old witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith, who has many times before claimed to be a distant descendant of the legendary witch Helga Hufflepuff, was discovered dead in her home a few days ago. Authorities claim that the place seemed to look regular and that there had been no sign of a struggle. In fact, the only other person who knew about her death, at the time, was her house elf, Hokey. Authorities told the Daily Prophet that Hokey looked to be confused about why she was there and seemed to remember putting sugar in old Smith's cocoa, but it could have been poison. She wasn't sure. St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries has confirmed that Smith's death was in fact a result of poisoning._ _No prosecution has yet been confirmed for the house elf, but we will continue to monitor the situation as it progresses. _

_It is with great regret therefore, that today we say goodbye to Hepzibah Smith, who—"_

Tom folded up the newspaper and got up from the bar table, throwing his cloak over himself. As he walked back to Knockturn Alley, he thought about old Hepzibah Smith and how, thanks to her, he had a beautiful horcrux back home. He had killed a muggle tramp for the other horcrux...one who surprisingly reminded him a lot of his mother, though he'd never seen her or pictures of her. Still, it felt appropriate to sacrifice someone who could represent his mother, seeing as how he'd already sacrificed his father.

He returned to Knockturn Alley and climbed up the stairs of Borgin and Burke's. He first tried Borgin's room and was pleased to find him sprawled on the floor, in a deep sleep. Burke was in the exact same condition when Tom visited his room next. Though, he did stir a bit in his sleep, and Tom had to jinx him again to strengthen the spell.

Back in his room, the Slytherin Locket vibrated quite a lot in his hands as Tom held it firmly. It was whispering at him…whispering his exact thoughts in Parseltongue. Tom disapparated and landed on the cliff on the seaside—at a place he had not been to since he was 11. He climbed into a boat and sailed into the dark cave where he'd once threatened Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop…and little Billy too. Tom climbed out of the boat and made his way deep into the dark cave, illuminating light from the tip of his wand as he slowly walked. Before long, he reached the perfect spot and pulled the locket from out of his cloak pocket. He placed it in the silvery bowl that was attached to rock. He then pulled out his wand and began to work.

It took several hours before the protective enchantments were complete, by which time Tom felt exhausted. The inferi were safe in the water in the cave and the locket was placed deep within the bowl which was filled with a kind of potion that would paralyse the drinker and perhaps make them go mad. Pleased with his night's work, Tom sailed out of the cave and disapparated again, this time landing on his bed in his room at Borgin and Burke's. He dived into a deep sleep and awoke the next day, feeling much better. He glanced at himself in the mirror and was positively pleased. The locket and the cup were certainly doing their job right. He no longer looked like his filthy muggle father at all. His facial features were more blurred and gaunt, and the whites of his eyes now had a bloodier look about them. The Hufflepuff Cup and the diary whispered from under the floorboard.

The following month, on a brisk cold November night, Tom journeyed far north, following the instructions in the letter he'd received by owl. He arrived on the doorstep of a large, black-bricked manor. The large windows were emitting light from within. He let himself in and climbed up the stairs confidently, as though he had been in the house many times before and knew his way around. He entered a room where there sat seven men in black cloaks, all of them with their hands on the table, waiting. They turned around just as he entered the room.

"Welcome back, my Death Eaters," Tom told Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Davis, Nott, Rowle, and Selwynn.

They beamed at him.


	22. The Death Eaters

**Author's Note: Hey guys! It's Friday so you know what that means! Here are the next couple of chapters. Enjoy! (I'M REALLY LOVING THESE PARTS SO YOU'LL NOTICE THAT IT'S A FAIRLY LONG CHAPTER BECAUSE I JUST COULD NOT STOP! We're finally getting to the good parts leading up to the First Wizarding War! YAY!)**

* * *

_...He entered a room where there sat seven men in black cloaks, all of them with their hands on the table, waiting. They turned around just as he entered the room._

_"Welcome back, my Death Eaters," Tom told Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Davis, Nott, Rowle, and Selwynn._

_They beamed at him..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 22: THE DEATH EATERS**

"Good evening, my friends," said Tom.

He looked around the room at the men sitting at the table, all of them smiling up at him. Though, he could tell they were surprised by his physical appearance. He looked nothing like he had 6 years ago. His hair was much longer now and there were greater scars on his face which was paler than ever. His eyes had undergone some transformation as well, though Tom could still see his filthy muggle father in them.

"How have you been, my lord?" asked Rosier as Tom took a seat at the head of the table.

"I have been well," said Tom casually, "Very productive couple of years, I must say." He paused. "You look like you have been well, Rosier."

He eyed him carefully. Rosier had grown a lot since they'd last seen each other. He looked like a man now and was even sporting a beard.

"Thank you, my lord," said Rosier, grinning. "I hope you won't mind if my sister joins us soon."

"Your sister?" said Tom, surprised. "How old is she now?"

"19, sir," said Rosier.

"And how much does she know?" asked Tom.

"Not everything," said Rosier, slowly, "But the important things, yes. You will like her, my lord. She is very enthusiastic about the Dark Arts."

"I have never thought of including women in our meetings," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"I assure you she thinks like a man," said Rosier.

"There is no need to try and convince me, Rosier," said Tom, "We're not shopping here. It's not a debate over a new wand."

"Of course, my lord," said Rosier quietly, but Tom had not heard him and turned to Lestrange instead.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he told Lestrange, who was sitting near him. "I read about you in the Prophet. Very nice."

Lestrange bowed his head to him. Tom turned to look at Avery on his other side, who was very quiet. He too had grown so much. Not even a fraction of his facial features resembled that of 6 years ago.

"And what have _you_ been doing with your time, Avery?" Tom directed at him.

He glanced around the table once as he waited for Avery to answer, and noticed that the Death Eaters had mechanically arranged their seats so that those who were first to join Tom were seated closer to him and those who were last to join were further down the long wooden table.

Avery met Tom's eyes but did not smile.

"I have been recruiting people, my lord."

The answer surprised Tom very much. He raised an eyebrow at Avery, which told him to continue.

"I have been meeting with friends of friends…telling them about your magical abilities and your ancestry. Many have been curious to hear what I have told them and they have told their friends as well."

"What sort of friends?" said Tom, slowly.

"All purebloods of course, my lord," said Avery, quickly. "Friends and relatives of our old Slytherin mates and all sorts of pureblood wizarding families who share your—uh, _our_ beliefs about muggles, sir. Dolohov is one particular individual whom I feel you will be fascinated with."

"So there is definitely interest?" said Tom.

"Yes, my lord," said Avery. "I've told them I would contact them soon enough."

"Thank you, Avery," said Tom, who now smiled at him. "You have been most useful."

Avery gave him a small smile, but did not look like he meant it.

"My lord," said Lestrange, forcing Tom to turn his head away from Avery. "Forgive me, my lord, but might I ask—how are you feeling? You don't look well, sir."

"I am splendid," said Tom to the group. He was very well aware that they were eyeing him with great concern. He had to admit he did look a lot like a patient at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Though, in his opinion, there was nothing particularly wrong with that. After all, he was gaining much more in return, with every new Horcrux creation. "Things have been _especially_ good lately."

"How so, my lord?"

"You won't understand it," said Tom. "Now, what have _you_ been doing with your time, Lestrange?"

"I…" Lestrange stopped and bit his lip. Tom waited. He could tell that whatever it was that Lestrange wanted to say, the group already knew about. They exchanged looks of concern and all took extra care in avoiding Tom's eyes.

"Go on," Tom said to Lestrange, keeping the cool in his voice.

"I m-married, my L-lord Voldemort," said Lestrange, "I have t-two children, s-s-sir."

There was silence. No one seemed to be breathing. They all appeared to be frightened of Tom's reaction. Tom however, surprised them all a few seconds later by smiling at Lestrange.

"You _have_ been busy," he said, chuckling. "I am very pleased to hear that."

"Y-you a-are?" said Lestrange.

"Oh yes," said Tom. "We need to recruit as many as possible, no? What better way than to reproduce amongst our ranks?"

The group collectively took a deep breath and their faces relaxed a bit.

"I married too, my lord," said Rosier quickly.

"As have I," said Nott.

"What are your children's names?" Tom asked Lestrange.

"Rodolphus and Rabastan," said Lestrange proudly, whose voice had also stopped trembling. "They are 5 years old and 3 months old."

Tom nodded.

At that moment, the door to the room opened and a woman entered. She was wearing a dark green cloak and had long silvery blonde hair and dark eyes. She stopped in the doorway, bowed once, and then proceeded to the table and took the seat at the very end.

"Good evening," said Tom.

"My lord," she said, bowing again.

"And you are?"

"Druella Rosier, my lord," she said.

"You look like your brother," Tom observed.

Rosier chuckled.

"What brings you here tonight, Druella?"

"I wish to join your ranks," she stated.

"Why?" said Tom.

"Rosier has told me about what had happened down at Hogwarts during your fifth year—that girl in the bathroom.."

"Ah," said Tom. "That's what interests you, is it?"

"Well, for a wizard at age 15, I find it to be incredibly marvelous, yes."

Tom smiled. What had Rosier been thinking, bring this child to a meeting?

"Well, why don't you run along and play with something?" Tom told her, kindly.

Her smile faded and she stared at him blankly. Then, without warning, she rose to her feet, drew out her wand, pointed it at her brother and muttered Imperio. Within seconds, poor Rosier was tap dancing on the table with his tongue stuck out and his hands clutching his buttocks. The Death Eaters roared with laughter and Tom smiled slightly but Druella kept her face sharp.

"That's enough," Tom instructed after a couple of minutes and Druella lifted the spell and sat back down. "You have a dangerous sense of humor, my dear."

Tom watched her for a long time while Rosier stumbled back to his seat and shot a few remarks at the laughing Death Eaters. After they quieted down, Tom nodded once at Druella, and then turned to look at her brother.

"And have you any children, Rosier?"

"One," said Rosier, grumpily. "Rosier Jr."

"How very predictable," Tom chuckled.

"My lord," interrupted Rowle. "I too have been speaking with many pureblood families, and there is one particular family who are very interested in meeting you and joining us."

"Yes," said Tom, beckoning him to continue.

"The Blacks, my lord," said Rowle.

"Ah yes, I've heard of them," said Tom, thoughtfully. "I believe the headmaster at Hogwarts, sometime before the late Armando Dippet, had been a man called Phineas Nigellus Black. Is it the same Black?"

"The very same, my lord," answered Rowle. "His great grandchildren are not much older than us. They have children too."

"And they are teaching them our beliefs," added Rosier. Tom stared at him. "I've been meeting with them as well, my lord."

"Ah," said Tom. "I see."

He glanced around the room, lost in thought. Here they were, his Death Eaters, hard at work. They were all loyal of course, but they were a motley collection—a mixture of the weak seeking protection (Selwynn), the ambitious seeking some shared glory (Lestrange, Nott and Rowle), and the thuggish gravitating towards a leader who could demonstrate more refined forms of cruelty (Davis and Rosier). But they were _his_, to do with as he pleased. And Avery, the oddest one among them, was quickly becoming Tom's favourite. He was definitely no longer predictable and Tom found it hard to recall those nights at Hogwarts when Avery practically begged him to play Exploding Snap with him.

"Well, forgive me, my Death Eaters," said Tom after a long silence. "But I'm afraid your work is far from over. You will continue to spread the word and recruit as many as you can and you will continue to make connections at the ministry, marry off, have children, teach them our values and our belief system, and report back to me regularly."

"Yes, my lord," they said in unison.

"Selwynn," said Tom. "Put together a list of as many muggle-born families as you can find. They will be our first targets."

"Y-yes, m-my lord," said Selwynn in barely more than a whisper.

"Oh and _please _make yourself useful and go find some whore to be your wife," said Tom.

Selwynn went red in the face. The Death Eaters smirked.

"We will be having meetings regularly now," Tom continued and the Death Eaters stopped laughing at once. "You are to bring your recruitments up to date. None however shall be brought to these meetings. I am not that trustworthy of a man. Therefore, I do not want to see or hear of them unless the situation is concerning. You are to command them as I will command you. Uh, Rowle, invite these Blacks over for dinner tomorrow night. They are an exception and so I'd like to conduct the interview myself."

"Yes, my lord," said Rowle, bowing his head to him.

Tom stared around the table for a moment, then got up and began to slowly walk around it.

"Unfortunately, the current situation in our country is—_unfavourable_," he began. "Everywhere you look, left and right, there are filthy mudbloods roaming the streets. Respectable pureblood families are mating with muggles and sharing all the secrets from our world. It ought to be a crime, in my opinion. But _no_, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement seems to believe that discrimination against half-breeds is a crime whereas mating with muggles is encouragement."

Several of the Death Eaters sniggered.

"Therefore," continued Tom, glancing once at Lestrange who looked uncomfortable with his job. "It is our duty to restore this country to its former glory—to that of the time of my ancestor, the Great Salazar Slytherin. Oh, what a beautiful time it had been. And it is my goal to bring it back again. We will rise up and show witches and wizards everywhere what they have succumbed to. And we will help them to improve.

We will start by getting rid of as many mudbloods as we can possibly track down. It won't be easy and we will have to do this secretly—at least, until we can form a greater army and go publicly about it. Until then, every treacherous act that you commit—and there better be many, for I _will_ monitor your progress—shall be completely untraceable. I can't afford to lose any followers now and I won't tolerate any failures. you are all better than that. I would know, I have trained you myself. In addition, I expect you to continue to spread the word and reproduce. We need as many as we can get. But do not let anyone know what I call you. Do not reveal my name just yet. The time for all of that will come soon enough."

"Yes, Lord Voldemort," the Death Eaters recited.

* * *

The Blacks had turned out to be the exact kinds of people Tom was most interested in. As purebloods, they certainly exhibited a thirst for dominance over mudbloods and half-bloods. They absolutely detested muggles and their idea of a good show was clearly the art of torture. Tom was very pleased to hear this and was more than delighted to show Lycoris Black how to properly perform the Cruciatus curse after dinner. He was astonished that such a grown wizard like him had never learned the spell before. Selwynn had so kindly volunteered himself for the demonstration upon Tom's request.

As the Death Eaters followed his orders and recruited more and more people, Tom quit his job at _Borgin and Burke's_ and spent the next couple of years training. He began to practice the many kinds of Dark Magic that he'd read about during all those years in the orphanage. He was now a master at Legiliments and often enjoyed demonstrating this to his Death Eaters who were awed at his magical abilities and his strength as a wizard. He continued with his physical transformations, casting various jinxes and modifying his facial features. He now had slit-like nostrils and his eyes were becoming redder by the day.

Slowly, very slowly, word was coming out that there was a dangerous dark wizard active in London. No one quite knew what he looked like yet but the name Lord Voldemort was mentioned several times in hushed whispers at street corners. The Daily Prophet had reported on it a couple of times, informing the public that an unnamed group, under the leadership of this Lord Voldemort, was disturbing the peace. Tom found these articles to be very humorous, especially since no one knew the name Death Eaters yet, but nonetheless kept reading and keeping an eye out for any signs of obstacles. And for a long time, there were none.

By 1960, ten years after the Deatheaters' reunion, they had managed to recruit just over 50 people. Satisfied, Tom slowly began to show himself in public as an anti-muggle wizard with strong beliefs about magical blood. There were many who disagreed with him and even more people were shocked at what he was preaching, given his history at Hogwarts and his perfect record. Tom however, no longer had anything to be afraid of. His army was growing every day, as were the children of his Death Eaters. He had already made arrangements to meet them and had declared them future Death Eaters who would succeed their parents after they were gone. Tom however, kept quiet about his own fate to the Death Eaters. It was, after all, none of their business what he was up to behind the scenes.

It was on December 25th, 1962 that Tom came across an interesting article in the Daily Prophet. He skimmed through it and then narrowed his eyes at the photograph of a 15-year-old prefect boy smiling back at him. The boy was standing next to an old man with a fat belly and a stupid grin on his face. _Horace Slughorn Dining with the Enemy: Are Voldemort and Horace still talking?_, read the headline above the photo. After just over a decade, he had at long last been discovered.

Tom was surprised to find that he was quite pleased about this. He had been yearning for people to finally wake up and realise that it was he, Lord Voldemort, who was responsible for the dawning era. And now that they had, the change was quite vast.

People began to avoid him on the streets. Borgin and Burke, both of whom had gotten over their strangeness, were somewhat fearful of Tom now and treated him as their employer, rather than former employee. Books were being written about him—the tragic boy who'd lost his way and was drowning in the Dark Arts. Article after article reported on Tom's mental state declining due to a traumatized childhood in a muggle orphanage. Dumbledore had been asked several times to give statements about this but always declined or replied with "No comment". Horace Slughorn had been hunted for a while too, as reporters were urging to get information out of him regarding Tom, but somehow, Slughorn was never seen without Dumbledore anymore and so reporters eventually realised that if Dumbledore was keeping quiet, so was Slughorn.

Tom met with his main Death Eater group—which now formally included the large Black family—almost every night for dinner to discuss things. They all addressed Tom as Lord Voldemort and none of the 50 other followers even knew his real name. This suited Tom very well. The main group were formal with him, yes, but not afraid to give him their input or advise him from time to time. The other followers feared to even speak his name, which was exactly how Tom liked it. A few odd followers however caught Tom's eye–they were either extremely talented or very ambitious–and so he allowed them to join the main Death Eater group; their names were Muldber and Dolohov, two equally vicious wizards.

Every night, Tom and the Death Eaters gathered in each other's homes, usually Nott's mansion. They brought along their families and Tom marked their children as his future followers. The Blacks particularly had a large family...Arcturus and Lycoris, Alphard and Cygnus (though they rarely showed for they were often busy at the ministry), Callidora and Cedrella, Charis, Marius, and Dorea, Pollux and Cassiopeia with their grown children, and Walburga and Orion with their young sons...though, Tom noticed one of their children was rather odd. Though the child was only 5 or 6 years old, he behaved very strangely. His younger brother was more well behaved than him. The child was not responding to their teachings like the rest of the children had. Bothered by this, Tom instructed Orion Black to stop bringing his peculiar son Sirius to dinner parties. Orion obeyed faithfully and began to leave him, Sirius, at home with some house elf named Kreacher.

Tom was curious to find that many of the Death Eaters were marrying off into each other's families and blending. For one, Cygnus Black married Rosier's younger sister, Druella, and together they had 3 daughters...Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. They were all in Hogwarts now (Slytherin), as was Lestrange's son Rodolphus, who was now 15. He was a prefect for Slytherin house. Tom appreciated this and declared that the boy would join them just as soon as he graduated. Rosier's son, Rosier Jr, was a bit younger but had shown an aptitude for the Dark Arts and was therefore provided special permission to attend the dinner parties.

On one such party, as the Death Eaters sipped on wine and listened to music from the radios and chatted about political affairs, Tom stood in the corner of the room, watching them. He watched as Walburga Black led her youngest son into the room and began to take off her traveling cloak. The boy wandered around curiously and then stopped to stare at a statue of Salazar Slytherin. Feeling kind, Tom approached the boy and knelt down beside him.

"Hello," said the little boy in a small voice. Tom smiled at him and then pointed at the statue.

"Do you know who this is?" he asked, coolly.

"Mummy's told me he is my father."

"Your _forefather_, yes," Tom corrected. "This wizard once set the basis for what the Wizarding world ought to be. It is because of him that we have achieved so much to this day."

"What has he done?" asked the boy.

"He taught us about magical blood," said Tom, "He taught us about our differences from muggles. He believed that muggles and muggle-born people ought to be eliminated completely. And he was quite right, little one. They are dangerous to us. They are not real wizards, mudbloods. Oh no, they get their powers by stripping them from real wizards. That's called thievery."

"That's bad!" cried the boy. Tom smiled again.

"And that is why your mother and father are helping me to stop this from happening."

"But who are you?"

Tom's smile faded slightly.

"Has your mother not told you?"

"Regulus!" cried Walburga Black from across the room. She stopped at the sight of Tom and then bowed her head low.

"Forgive me, my lord," she said, as Tom rose to his feet and put a hand on Regulus' shoulder.

"Not at all," said Tom. "I was just having a little chat here with Regulus. As I understand it, you have neglected to tell him about me."

"I..." said Walburga, whose husband now joined her and bowed low to Tom.

"My lord," said Orion.

Tom nodded to him.

"Why does your son not know my name?" he directed at Orion who said nothing.

Tom turned to look at Regulus.

"I am Lord Voldemort," he announced.

The other Deatheaters' conversations had gone bizarrely silent and all eyes were now on them.

"Wow!" cried Regulus. Tom smiled. "Do you also know how to do cool things like Slatherung?"

"Slytherin," Tom corrected. "And yes, I do. Did you know–I can speak to snakes."

"WOW!" repeated Regulus, whose eyes were sparkling with delight.

"Isn't that wonderful, sweetheart?" said Walburga nervously, and Tom was sure she flashed a look of warning at her son. She put her hand on his shoulder and tried to drag him away but Tom kept his hand firm on the boy's other shoulder and glared at Walburga.

"He stays," he declared.

"But...m-my lord–"

"I wish to continue talking to him," said Tom, simply. And with that, he led Regulus over to the couch, seated himself next to him, and continued with his tale, feeling very aware of Walburga's and Orion's nervous whispers.

Tom knew their son would be quite useful to him one day. Their other son, on the other hand, was as useless to Tom as his orphanage had been. The boy's very existence caused Tom to lose some respect for the Black family, which was a shame for they were, on the most part, very worthy.

In the winter of 1965, fifteen years after the reunion, Lycoris Black was killed in a duel with a Ministry auror. The Death Eaters gathered in Nott's house and mourned the loss, each offering comfort to the Black family and particularly to Lycoris' brother, Arcturus. Tom stayed for a drink and then went to pay a visit to _Borgin and Burke's_ and retrieve some items from his old room. He was just starting to head down to Knockturn Alley across the heavy snow when he suddenly crossed paths with a familiar face. He stopped and stared at the old man looking back at him from behind half-moon spectacles. The man narrowed his eyes and then smiled. Though, it was not as kind of a smile as it had always been.

"How do you do, Tom?"

Tom was startled to hear himself being addressed by his old name. It had been a while since he was last called that.

Nevertheless, he replied "Fine, professor," out of old habit. He thought hard for a long moment and then continued before Dumbledore could say anything else. "I've actually been meaning to bump into you."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Have you?"

"Oh yes," said Tom, carefully leveling his voice to supress the sarcasm and deep hatred. "I have something important I'd like to discuss with you. Uh, shall we go somewhere?"

Dumbledore glanced at the clock inside one of the nearby shops and then sighed.

"I'm afraid, I'm in a bit of hurry now, Tom," he said, sadly. "I have a hearing to attend again. I won't complain about being made Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; tis quite an honour, but I won't deny that it does use up too much of my time."

"I really do need to talk to you soon sir," Tom pressed on.

"Well," said Dumbledore, warily. "How about you come up to the school this coming Tuesday? Shall we say 6 o'clock?"

"I look forward to it," said Tom, coolly. He bowed once to Dumbledore and then disappeared down the alleyway, without looking back at Dumbledore, who he was sure, was still watching him intently.

* * *

"I don't advise you to do it, sir," said Rowle in a constricted voice.

"He's right, my lord," said Rosier. "It'll waste too much of your valuable time."

"Gentlemen," Tom interrupted. "I have all the time in the world, _believe me_."

They were sitting in the dining room of the Black family manor that night, discussing tactics and strategies for how to go about tracking down a particular mudblood family. Tom had casually mentioned that he would be going to work at Hogwarts and to his surprise, Rowle and Rosier were putting up a fight.

"There is nothing more to discuss," Tom told them.

"Sir, we have so much more we still need to do!" said Rosier. "Think about the cause! Think about everything we have been building up to in the last fifteen years! If you're off at Hogwarts, we'll surely fail! We need you, we can't do any of this without you. Think about it!"

"I am, _Rosier_," said Tom, calmly. He sipped from his glass of wine and then lowered his voice so the others wouldn't hear. They were too busy listening to the radio and fighting over who would report to Tom about something. "Don't you see that working at Hogwarts is the best possible strategy for getting to the children? The wizard children who will grow up and join my ranks one day? I will teach them, I will befriend them, and I will make them _ours._"

"I think it's awfully dangerous to do this under Dumbledore's nose," said Rowle, nervously.

"Coward," scoffed Tom. "Listen, _Dumbledore_ is no problem at all." He tried to make himself sound as convincing as possible, but even he had to admit that the strain in his voice was noticeable. "I feel connected to that place. I feel that I need to come back to it and that is what I will do, _Rosier_."

Rosier quickly shut his mouth again and blinked at Tom.

"I am drawn back to it. No matter what I do and no matter where I go, everything somehow always comes back to Hogwarts."

Rosier and Rowle didn't say anything but merely exchanged a look.

"I know what I am doing," Tom said, firmly. "Don't you two trust me?"

"Of course, my lord," said Rowle quickly. "We didn't mean to—"

"Everything is going to go exactly how it ought to," said Tom. "You are too naïve and innocent, Rowle, to see it now but I expect you will very soon."

"I wouldn't call him innocent," Rosier said with a small grin. Tom turned from Rowle and looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Didn't you know that he tortured a little girl last week?" said Rosier, whose grin had broadened. Tom turned to look at Rowle with great fascination.

"She was the daughter of a mudblood who reminded me of an old cat," shrugged Rowle.

"I am very impressed," said Tom, smiling at him. "You have always been my favourite, Rowle."

Rowle gave him a look of deep gratitude but said nothing.

On Tuesday night, Tom put on his best suit and threw his black traveling cloak over himself. He pocketed his wand but kept a tight grip on it as he left the Black mansion, followed carefully by Nott, Muldber, and Dolohov. Rosier had insisted on coming along as well.

"When will you be back, my lord?" Rowle called after them.

"Later this evening," said Tom. "Start without us."

"Yes, my lord."

Once they disapparated to _Borgin and Burke's_, Tom jinxed both of his former employers into a deep sleep and then climbed up the stairs to his old room, while his Death Eaters waited outside. He retrieved his diadem from under the floorboard and fixed his diary and cup under the wood so that they were safe. Then, he met up with the Death Eaters again and disapparated, landing in Hogsmeade station.

"We will be waiting here, my lord," said Rosier as the men entered The Hog's Head. Tom nodded once and started off.

As he walked up to the castle alone in the cold January evening, he went over what he was going to say to Dumbledore. The last fifteen years had certainly been full of activity. His Death Eaters had managed to eliminate dozens of mudblood families and were on the move to terminate many more. During these little hunts, Tom had practiced his legiliments and was pleased to find that he was able to create images within others' minds rather than simply read their memories. He had begun to create very dark, very powerful images that caused his victims to screech with pain and almost always beg for death. He wondered, as he reached the castle grounds, whether Dumbledore knew about this.

He entered the Hogwarts castle and made his way along the old, familiar corridors, remembering his years there and how much he had changed since, both physically and magically. He reached the stone gargoyle in no time and held out a hand to knock on the door, though he hesitated. He had forgotten how panicked he always felt when facing Dumbledore's accusatory eyes. But surely there was nothing to worry about now. After all, Dumbledore knew Tom was the only perfect candidate for the job and there was no proof out there of his wrongdoing. It was all strictly rumors. Still, he couldn't help but feel that, as he knocked on the door three times and heard the old voice call 'come in', he was walking right into what could potentially become his demise.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling**

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	23. Dumbledore's Rejection

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling**

**Thanks**

**I will see you all again next weekend with more exciting chapters to come! **

* * *

_...After all, Dumbledore knew Tom was the only perfect candidate for the job and there was no proof out there of his wrongdoing. It was all strictly rumors. Still, he couldn't help but feel that, as he knocked on the door three times and heard the old voice call 'come in', he was walking right into what could potentially become his demise..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 23: DUMBLEDORE'S REJECTION**

Tom entered the large Headmaster's office and brushed the snow off of his shoulders. Dumbledore was sitting behind the desk and showed no sign of surprise at Tom's entrance. He had obviously not forgotten about their appointment, and had perhaps thought of nothing else since its inception.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," said Tom, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured. "I heard that you had become headmaster," he said, looking around the big office. "A worthy choice."

"I'm glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Though, it did happen years ago but I'm still quite new to the job. Uh, may I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome," said Tom, now facing Dumbledore again. "I have come a long way."

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet in the corner, which was full of bottles. Tom noticed that the office looked a lot different than it had when Dippet occupied it. Dumbledore had laid all sorts of silver instruments about the room which was now positively packed with piles of thick, dusty books. Handing Tom a goblet of wine and pouring one for himself, Dumbledore returned to the seat behind his desk.

"Order of Merlin, first class," said Tom, with fake admiration. "Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards...and now Headmaster at Hogwarts...very impressive."

Dumbledore's smile faded slightly.

"I see you have been following my progress closely," he said.

"If you want to know what a man truly is, take a good look at how he treats his superiors—I believe that is the saying..."

"_Inferiors_," corrected Dumbledore quietly, but Tom chose to ignore this.

"I have merely been curious as to what you do with your time."

"And have I satisfied you?"

"Certainly," said Tom in a most casual tone. "You are a very learned wizard, Dumbledore. I respect that."

"So, Tom...to what do I owe the pleasure then?"

Tom did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine. He was working very hard at trying to keep his expression blank and hide his hatred. The last time he had a crucial conversation with someone who needed careful flattery, it had been Hepzibah Smith. And the time before that, Horace Slughorn. But Dumbledore was neither Hepzibah nor Slughorn. He was Dumbledore—the only wizard truly capable of inflicting fear in Tom.

"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he finally said, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes. "These days, I am known as—"

"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

He raised his glass as though toasting Tom, whose face remained expressionless with great difficulty. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the room changed subtly. Dumbledore's refusal to use Tom's chosen name was a refusal to allow Tom to dictate the terms of the meeting. _How very like him_, thought Tom. He was still treating him as though he, Dumbledore, were superior to him.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," said Tom after a short pause. It was meant to be an insult targeting Dumbledore's old age. He quickly covered it up with a compliment. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "To a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills—helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."

"I see it still," said Tom, quickly. "I merely wondered why you—who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister—"

"Three times at the last count, actually," said Dumbledore, brightly. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Tom inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine to buy himself some time. Pfft, something they had in common. As far as Tom was concerned, he and the wizard sitting across from him had absolutely nothing in common. Tom was far more ambitious and learned in the dark arts. Sure, Dumbledore had potential to become something great, if he really wanted to. But he was nothing more than an old fool, too reliant on the silly power of love. But how would he, Tom, go about this? Dumbledore was obviously forming some sort of a barrier between the two of them, if not purposely, then subconsciously. When Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited with a look of pleasant expectancy, Tom took this as a cue to begin.

"I have returned," he said, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected…but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore considered Tom over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly, and Tom noticed he was no longer smiling. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

_Typical_, thought Tom. How very typical of Dumbledore to accuse Tom of going too far in the magical arts. With immense difficulty, Tom's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, and spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

It was the first time he had ever called him by his name, and Dumbledore seemed to notice this as well for he frowned slightly.

"You call it 'greatness', what you have been doing, do you?" he asked delicately.

"Certainly," said Tom, casually, and his eyes seemed to burn as he said it. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed—"

"Of _some_ kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly, though Tom was grateful he interrupted for he had been about to spill his greatest secret yet.

"Of others," continued Dumbledore, "you remain…forgive me…woefully ignorant."

Having expected a remark like this, Tom smiled tautly.

"Ah, the old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that _love_ is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore.

Tom tightened his grip on the wine glass. Dumbledore was playing mind games with him—feigning kindness and oblivion. Growing slightly agitated, Tom decided to jump into the subject again.

"Well then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" he said quickly. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

He had to admit to himself that it was painful—saying these words. The next worst thing to being Dumbledore's to command was death itself, as far as Tom was concerned. Nevertheless, he kept his expression tamed and watched Dumbledore's own expression. His eyebrows rose.

"And what will become of those whom _you_ command?" he asked, quietly.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Tom, simply.

"What will happen to those who call themselves—or so rumor has it—the Death Eaters?" said Dumbledore, and he was now watching Tom carefully from behind the half-moon spectacles.

Tom had not expected Dumbledore to know this name. His eyes flashed red again and his slit-like nostrils flared. How—_how _did he do it? _Where _did he get his information from?

"My friends," said Tom, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," said Tom, no longer able to suppress the bitterness in his voice. He glared at Dumbledore from across the desk.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them—Nott, Rosier, Muldber, Dolohov—awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

Tom frowned. He was quite alarmed at how Dumbledore could possibly know all of these names. He was alarmed at how correct Dumbledore was. However, Tom rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly. "Now, Tom…"

He set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.

"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Tom looked coldly surprised and quite astonished by Dumbledore's straightforwardness.

"A job I do not want? I am afraid I do not know what you mean. On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were seventeen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Tom sneered. How _dare_ he talk to him like this?

"If you do not want to give me a job—"

"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore, surprising Tom very much. "And I don't think for a moment that you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

Tom stood up, refusing to answer these questions. He could feel his face hot with rage but carefully controlled his voice as he spoke.

"This is your final word?"

"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other," declared Tom.

"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom…I wish I could…"

Tom's hand had twitched toward his pocket and his wand, but he stopped himself at the last second, deciding that it was not a good idea. He turned away and headed for the door.

"Er, Tom," said Dumbledore.

Tom stopped, took a deep breath, and turned round to look at Dumbledore again.

"I thought I ought to let you know that I have hired a Keeper of the Keys—a gamekeeper, if you will. Would you like to know his name?"

Tom stared, wondering why he was hearing this, but was not confused for a second longer, for Dumbledore smiled softly and said, "Rubeus Hagrid."

Once out of the office, Tom sped through the dark corridors and up to the marble staircase. He practically raced all the way up to the seventh floor, ignoring the Bloody Baron who gasped at the sight of him. Tom was raging. He was furious. He hated Dumbledore perhaps more in that moment that he had ever before, if it were even possible. Forgetting that his Death Eaters were waiting for him in the Hog's Head, Tom stopped in front of one particular wall on the seventh floor and closed his eyes, wishing for the room where everything is hidden to materialise.

After a few moments, a door appeared and, looking around a few times, Tom hastily opened it and let himself in. He walked for a long time, searching for the perfect spot. Finally, after he himself was lost in piles of worthless objects, Tom stopped. He picked up a small treasure box and emptied it of the thousands of pearls. They littered to the floor and scattered about. Tom then retrieved the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw from his cloak and, stroking it, he placed it inside the box. He closed the box and placed that back on a random table and covered it with a random old cloak. Feeling confident that no one would ever find it there, he started back towards the door.

As he slowly made his way back down the stairs, feeling slightly calmer now than he had moments before, he stopped in the hall to stare at a girl who was standing alone. Noticing him, she quickly bowed her head. She seemed to recognize him instantly. Curious, Tom approached her. She had long black hair, virtually black eyes, and a pale but familiar face. She bowed her head to him just like he had seen her aunt do many times before.

"Your father is Cygnus?" Tom asked her, curiously.

"Yes, my lord," she answered.

Tom was sure he had seen her attend the dinner parties once or twice before. In any case, she was well trained and knew exactly how to address him.

"Your mother is the sister of one of my best men," Tom told her. "We were in school together...Rosier."

"Yes, I know, my lord," said the girl, her head still bowed. "My parents have told me all about you."

"Have they?" said Tom. Then, irritated, he added, "Look at me when I talk to you."

The girl met his eyes with a nervous jerk of the head. She looked exactly like a much younger version of her father's sister, Walburga Black. Tom stared at her.

"How old are you?" he asked quietly, forgetting his moment of frustration.

"I am in fourth year, my lord," she answered, surprised a little.

"Nearing graduation then," said Tom. "Are you planning on joining—"

"Yes, my lord," said the girl quickly. "I am anticipating it—counting the days."

Tom thought long and hard. There was something about her—some sort of viciousness or cruelty he knew she possessed—that interested him very much. He felt that he had a lot in common with her, which was bizarre for she was only a child and was not nearly as talented or skilled as he. Still, he smiled at her.

"I look forward to your initiation, Bellatrix Black."

"As do I, my lord," she responded.

He left her there and disappeared behind the stairs and down the Entrance Hall. Before heading back down to Hogsmeade, he caught a glimpse of an extremely tall shadowy figure lurking around a cabin not too far from the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Tom turned around and walked towards the little cabin, with a slight idea as to what he would find in there. Sure enough, as he neared the cabin, he saw Rubeus Hagrid feeding some rats to an ugly fanged creature. He startled at the sight of Tom and even took a few step backwards.

"Nice to see you again, Hagrid," said Tom, brightly. "How on earth did you manage to come back?"

"W-w-what are _y-you_ d-d-doing here?!" barked Hagrid, nervously.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon me?"

"I-I-I'll be g-g-going n-now," said Hagrid, and he actually made to return to his cabin, but Tom had pulled out his wand and was pointing it at him now.

"Do not go anywhere," he said quietly.

Hagrid froze.

"I asked you a question; I expect you to answer it," said Tom, coolly.

"I d-don't have t-to do a-anything y-y-you t-tell me," said Hagrid, defensively. Though, he was staring at the wand now rather than at Tom.

"Oh, I think you do," said Tom. And he lowered his wand. "Haven't you heard? _I_ am Lord Voldemort."

Hagrid actually winced at the sound of the name and then backed all the way up against his cabin door. Pleased, Tom turned around and walked away.

"How did it go, my lord?" said Rosier eagerly when Tom met up with him and the others in the Hog's Head an hour later.

Tom shook his head.

"WHAT?!" cried Muldber. "I was so sure you would—"

"Let's go," said Tom, and he disapparated at once and landed on the Blacks' doorstep.

Though the dinner party had already started, the Death Eaters all froze once Tom entered the room. He nodded for them to continue on with their conversations, and himself went and got a drink. Rowle approached him at once, leaving his wife behind to talk to Walburga Black. Tom went to stand in the corner and Nott joined his side as well.

"My lord?" said Rowle with concern.

Tom smiled at him.

"But why—"

"Surely you remember what _Mr_. Dumbledore is like," said Tom, coolly.

"Git," said Rowle, under his breath. This made Tom smile even more.

"No worries, it's like you said, we have more important things to do than teach at some school."

"My lord," said Nott. "I feel sure that one day, Dumbledore will be at your knees."

"Of course," agreed Rowle. "He is no match for you. You have gone further than he has ever gone, I'm sure of it."

"But for now," said Nott, "We really do need to take care of things."

"Like the current situation at the ministry," said Rowle. "My lord, Lestrange has informed me just this afternoon that there have been rumors—whispers—that the auror office will begin conducting random searches."

"Searches?" repeated Tom.

"Trying to find you, my lord," explained Rowle.

Tom thought for a minute.

"Let them," he finally said.

"But my lord—"

"Let them, Rowle. There is nothing they can do to me." He sipped from his wine glass and stared at the group of wives standing in a circle, laughing at something that little Regulus had said or done. Tom narrowed his eyes at the youngest among the women. She was a tall woman with long blonde hair that flowed down her back.

"Who is this child?" Tom asked Rowle. "What is she doing here? Who has brought her here?"

"I have, m-my lord," said Nott in a low voice. Tom stared at him.

"Who is she?" he snapped.

"M-my wife, s-sir," answered Nott, who was looking down at his feet like he used to all those years ago.

Tom looked at her again. She looked to be no more than 17 or 18.

"You mean to say that this _fetus_ is your wife?" he chuckled. Nott gave him a painful smile.

"I mean, I'm not judging," said Tom quickly. "I'm sure you had your reasons."

"She is very...energetic," said Nott.

Tom laughed out loud.

"Very well, Nott, have your fun but it'll cost you a couple of children to be my future servants."

"Of course, my lord," said Nott, quickly. "All of my children will be at your service, as will I, until the day I die."

Tom smiled at him.

"You were always my favourite, Nott."

Nott gave him a look of deep gratitude. Rowle, on the other hand, frowned.

"What about him?" Tom asked, pointing at a tall blonde man with a long beard, who was talking to Orion Black and Dolohov.

"That's Abraxas Malfoy," Rowle informed him.

"What's he doing here?" said Tom.

"He is a close friend of the Minister of Magic, my lord," said Rowle, smiling. "But personally, he would rather see the minister's head on a stick."

"It'll be my pleasure to grant him this," said Tom.

And with that, he set his glass on a table and went to the centre of the room.

"Good evening, my friends!" he said aloud. Everyone stopped talked and turned to look at him, all of them interested in what he was going to say. Someone turned down the music though it still played quietly. "I would like to personally welcome all newcomers. I feel sure we will be working together for a long time. I am also delighted to inform you that from now on, we will be increasing our influences and number of attacks. We will go public with our name and we will show them our true side."

The Death Eaters applauded in celebration. Tom waited until they were done.

"I have thought long and hard about this and have decided that the best way to go about it is to hit their weakest links."

He paused.

"We will target those which the Ministry and the Wizarding World in general have shunned—the outcasts."

"Goblins!" cried Walburga Black.

"And trolls!" added Lestrange.

"Think bigger," said Tom. "We will get them all—house elves, giants, werewolves, vampires. We will remind them how they have been treated all this time by wizards and we will persuade them to join us!"

"To join our ranks!" cried Rowle, holding up a glass.

"To conquer the world!" exclaimed Davis.

"Show them how it's done!" cried Rosier.

"And never let them forget it!" finished Tom, and together, they all raised their glasses and drank to their future, which looked, for the moment, to be very, very bright.

* * *

**To review: ****At this point in the story, we have reached what is coming close to becoming the Wizarding War. The next few chapters will go into detail about the war, interactions between Voldemort and his Death Eaters who are always changing (their children are growing up and becoming Voldemort's closest allies while their parents are dying off). Voldemort meanwhile, will be very busy as well. He will continue to undergo magical transformations and practice legiliments. He will overpower the most powerful wizards and offer his Death Eaters a lot. He will find hiding spots for his remaining horcruxes, get a pet, and even have a brief relationship with a familiar someone. **

**Coming soon, interactions with Snape and the Malfoys, Crouch and Pettigrew.**

**Also, in case you were wondering... I feel as though I need to keep using the name Tom when saying "Tom looked there" or "Tom did that" to maintain a sense of continuity..that it is still that same little messed-up boy from the orphanage. However, all of the Death Eaters and everyone else know him as Voldemort now. **

**Hope you liked the chapter! **


	24. Nagini

**Author's Note: Happy Friday everyone! :) I am so excited for this chapter. Unfortunately, I am very busy at school right now so I was only able to write one chapter for you all, but I hope you still enjoy it and next weekend I will definitely sit down and write many more chapters because I have a week-long break coming up. Anyway, thanks for the support, you are all amazing and I will see you again in one week!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights to J.K Rowling. Thanks.**

* * *

_...and together, they all raised their glasses and drank to their future, which looked, for the moment, to be very, very bright..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 24: NAGINI**

As it turned out, Rowle and Nott had been right—Tom was destined for things far greater than pathetic old Hogwarts. It only took a few years' time for him to truly rise up in the wizarding world. By spring of 1968, just three years after Dumbledore had rejected him, Tom had convinced several dozens of werewolves to join his ranks. This was a most difficult task for werewolves were incredibly stubborn creatures. However, these particular werewolves were very impressed with Tom's magical abilities that they agreed even before Tom had to curse them.

Death Eater meetings were now a nightly ritual and nearly always took place at Nott's mansion or Malfoy Manor. The Blacks were not too keen on hosting meetings at their home for their oldest son, now 8 years old, still presented a sort of strangeness Tom associated with weakness. Still, Tom was very fond of the Blacks and had high hopes for their youngest, Regulus.

The Malfoys had also turned out to be very loyal followers. They always knew to say exactly what Tom wanted to hear and follow through with his orders exactly how he presented them. They also presented healthy aptitudes for the Dark Arts and always marveled at Tom's ability to speak Parseltongue. This amused Tom very much.

The rest of the wizarding world was already living in terror, though Tom thought this was nothing yet. People were disappearing weekly at the hands of the Death Eaters and so wizards everywhere feared they would be next. Tom had given specific instructions to his Death Eaters to recruit purebloods only, but there was still fear at every corner of Diagon Alley.

One evening in late April of 1968, Tom sat his Death Eaters down at Nott's mansion for a serious talk.

"I have decided that we shall now target all blood traitors," he declared. The Death Eaters did not seem to comprehend for they sat in silence, all of them looking puzzled. "This means," Tom clarified, "Those witches and wizards of _any_ blood status, who support mudbloods."

"But sir," said Rosier, "There aren't that many pureblood wizarding families. Obviously they interact with muggles. Are we supposed to kill these—"

"Yes, Rosier," said Tom, simply. "You may attempt to persuade them to abandon their beliefs and join our side, but if they are not understanding of our values, dispose of them. It'll be good practice for you."

"Yes, sir," the Death Eaters murmured together.

"Good," said Tom. "Now, I wish to contact a specific wizard whom I know I will not be able to get in touch with quite easily…his name is Horace Slughorn. Some of you may know him for he taught—and still teaches—at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is crucial that I meet with him but unfortunately, our dear old friend Slughorn is never seen anywhere without darling Dumbledore. Therefore, I need you to find a way (I don't care how) to arrange this meeting for me."

"Yes, sir," the Death Eaters repeated, more nervously this time.

The following week, as Tom sat down with little Regulus during another one of his dinner parties and explained the uses of dementors to him, Rosier and Avery burst into the room, each grasping a fighting arm of Horace Slughorn's. Tom quickly stood up and eyed Slughorn carefully. Slughorn, who was too busy fighting his way from the Death Eaters' grasps, did not see him at first.

"We've brought the wizard, sir," said Rosier.

"Thank you," said Tom, simply. "Let him go."

Rosier and Avery let go of Slughorn who straightened up and shot them both dark looks. It was then that he finally noticed Tom standing before him. His eyes widened with shock and his mouth fell slightly open.

"Evening, professor," said Tom, bowing once to him.

The others in the room sniggered at his mock politeness.

"H-hello, Tom," said Slughorn.

He casually placed his hands in his cloak pockets, no doubt clutching onto his wand. Tom was sure that Dumbledore had warned him beforehand.

"My name is not Tom anymore," he told the old man now. "As I'm sure you know, they now call me—"

"Don't—don't say the name!" cried Slughorn. "Please, don't."

"Why not?" said Tom, pretending to look surprised.

"What…w-why am I here, Riddle?"

Tom considered him for a moment, and then glanced at Avery.

"I'd like to speak to Professor Slughorn in private," he told him.

Avery bowed his head and then motioned for everyone to leave the room. Soon, it was just Tom and Slughorn. Tom began to slowly circle Slughorn, who stood with his belly puffed out. His eyes were focused hard on a lamp somewhere in the corner and he was working really hard at avoiding Tom's eyes.

"How are you, sir?" said Tom, casually.

"Fine, thank you," said Slughorn.

"Still working for Dumbledore?"

"Yes, I am."

"Hmm…ever considered leaving that place?"

"And why would I do that?"

Tom stopped to look at him.

"Because I can offer you so much more."

"I…I'm sure I d-don't know what y-you mean," said Slughorn, who was still avoiding Tom's eyes.

"You are a respectable wizard of pureblood status," Tom reminded him. "You were in Slytherin—_head_ of Slytherin house, in fact—and you were my absolute favourite teacher at Hogwarts. I am prepared to offer you a place in my ranks."

"Well, I—"

"Let me explain it to you more clearly," said Tom. "As I'm sure you know, I have travelled a lot these last few years and have gone further in the magical arts than any other wizard in existence. I have experienced and I have conquered. I am very learned in the Dark Arts—thank you, by the way."

Slughorn bit his lip.

"However, I'm afraid I am not quite satisfied just yet," continued Tom. "You see, I plan on…changing the wizarding world forever. I want to remind witches and wizards everywhere of how much they have been manipulated by muggleborns these last hundred decades. I realise that not many will agree with what I am prepared to teach them, and so I will try my best to be—eh, persuasive, if you will."

Slughorn finally met his eyes and frowned.

"You don't understand?" said Tom, simply. "No matter, I will explain. You see, I feel that the only thing worse than a _pretend_ wizard who has muggle blood in their system is a pureblood wizard who condones this and encourages it."

Tom shook his head and chuckled slightly. Slughorn's frown deepened.

"Anyway," said Tom. "What do you say? Would you like to join me?"

"Thank you, Tom," said Slughorn, quickly. "But I'm afraid I am far too old and confused to—"

"You are perfectly fine in my opinion," interrupted Tom, who was no longer smiling. His hands were behind his back and he was staring at Slughorn demandingly.

Slughorn struggled on the verge of speech and fiddled around in his pocket absentmindedly.

"Uh, I'm afraid I must decline your offer at this time," he finally said.

A moment's silence stretched through the room, bringing with it painful strokes of "I TOLD YOU SO" which sounded a lot like Dumbledore. Tom glared at Slughorn, feeling oddly familiar with this situation. Only three years before, Dumbledore had said those exact same words to him.

"This is your final answer, is it?" said Tom.

"Y-yes," said Slughorn, uncomfortably.

"Very well then," said Tom. "You may leave."

"Goodbye, Tom," said Slughorn, and he turned around and crossed the room to the door.

"Wait," said Tom.

Slughorn froze at the door.

"Professor," said Tom, who took a few steps towards him.

Slughorn slowly turned around to look at him again, his face expression overwhelmed with anxiety.

"I want to warn you," said Tom, and he himself was surprised to find that there was no hint of mockery in his concern. "I plan to take serious action from now on… I plan to take over the wizarding world very soon. And when I do, things will become very dangerous for pureblood wizards who defy me or befriend muggleborns."

Slughorn stared at him incredulously as Tom told him this.

"If you refuse to join me," said Tom, very slowly, "Then leave. Leave the country as fast as you can. I will not spare your life again."

Slughorn's jaw dropped.

"A-are you t-threatening m-m-me, T-tom?" he stammered.

"I am merely stating a fact," said Tom. "This is your last chance."

Slughorn eyed him for a long time. Then, he turned around and walked out the door, leaving Tom alone in the room.

* * *

By winter of 1969, Tom had made an agreement with the Dementors and they were officially under his leadership. He had gotten to the vampires and the goblins as well and some of them had joined him. His Death Eater numbers were now in the triple hundreds and the Ministry had never been more frightened. Things were happening very fast.

The Death Eaters had been instructed by Tom to recruit at any means necessary. This included manipulation, curses and jinxes, and blackmailing. Most of the time, it worked, but there were the odd cases that refused to give in. And, when the Death Eaters went after them, they learned that they'd been placed under special protection. One example of such a wizard was a man called Arthur Weasley, who had only just left Hogwarts. He was a pureblood who liked to associate with muggleborns and even worked at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office at the ministry. However, he was now nearly unreachable as there were several protection charms placed around his residence. Tom strongly suspected that either Dumbledore or the ministry were behind this.

Although Tom was growing more followers every single day, he was also losing many of his favourites. The older Death Eaters were dying off or getting killed in battle. Their children though were getting older by the minute and there was already talk at Hogwarts of Slytherin students planning to join Tom after graduation. Tom was sure Dumbledore was more pleased about this than anybody else.

Bellatrix Black had just graduated from Hogwarts with honours and was already training heavily. Her sister, Narcissa, was only in fourth year but no doubt headed in the same direction. Rosier's children were already grown and active in the field. Lestrange's son Rodolphus was also a grown man and looking to marry. Malfoy's kid Lucius was already in his sixth year at Hogwarts and was a Slytherin Prefect just like Rodolphus had been. It seemed to Tom that every one of his Death Eaters' children was following in his footsteps. Just as planned.

On a late Sunday evening in the summer of 1970, Tom revealed his new plan to Avery and Lestrange, who listened carefully. They were meant to convince the trolls of the distant mountains to join the cause. According to Lestrange, the Ministry of Magic had been talking for quite some time about declaring a war on the Death Eaters. They feared that Tom would recruit all manners of dark creatures and that they would be left with nothing. In fact, every other day, the Daily Prophet reported about another group that Lord Voldemort had manipulated. These articles were clipped to the wall in the main room of Nott's mansion for entertainment during their dinner parties.

Things however went downhill from there. In the next couple of weeks, the Ministry of Magic had issued a new decree which allowed its auror office to use any means necessary to capture Death Eaters. Dolohov, Rosier, and Davis were being massively sought throughout the country for they had been discovered to have tortured a half-blood family. Tom provided them with special protective jinxes but they were still too nervous about going out in public and so they spent the next couple of weeks locked up in Nott's mansion.

"Any luck with the trolls?" Tom asked Avery one night.

Avery shook his head.

The two were sitting alone in the corner of Nott's party room. The other Death Eaters were immersed in conversations and drinks, and laughing cruelly at the lifeless form of a mudblood witch who hung by the window.

"They are being stubborn, my lord," Avery explained. "But Rosier and Lestrange are over there right now, trying to persuade them. We will know very soon."

Tom nodded. He stared down at his wine glass for a long time, thinking about Dumbledore and what he must be doing in preparation for the war that was sure to come very soon. Finally, Tom got up and put his wine glass aside.

"I'm going out," he announced, and without waiting for anybody's reaction, he disapparated.

He landed on top of a cliff amongst shallow fields of grass which was slightly illuminated by the moonlit sky. He walked along slowly, whispering to himself in Parseltongue, as he did whenever he was alone. He had a very strong feeling that Dumbledore was out to get him. He felt that Dumbledore was planning something big to oppose him. He'd never liked or trusted Tom—it would be crazy to assume that he'd sit back and do nothing while Tom took over the world.

"You are right," hissed a voice.

Tom paused and looked down at the ground. A large green snake, larger than any he had ever encountered before, was slithering right at his feet.

"And you are?" he asked it.

"I am agreeing with you," she answered.

Tom frowned at her. No snake he had ever encountered had spoken with him so fearlessly. Usually, they addressed him as master or sir. None were comfortable with talking to him openly.

"Where do you come from?" Tom asked the snake.

"Crystal Cave," the snake answered.

Tom froze. It was the same cave where he had hidden one of his horcruxes—Slytherin's locket. It was the same cave where he had come many times as a child and had threatened muggle children. Could it be that he had spoken to this snake before?

"Nagini," he said in a low voice. "Your name is Nagini."

"So it is," answered the snake.

"And you will be mine."

"Will I?" she hissed as she slowly slid up to his shoulders and rested herself there.

"You will," said Tom.

The snake slithered around him in a sort of teasing manner. She really was quite beautiful and daring.

"Well, if you say so," she answered.

Tom smiled. He had not been this happy since he'd retrieved those two Horcruxes from the old hag Hepzibah Smith many years ago.

He brought the snake back with him to Nott's mansion hours later, surprising the Death Eaters who had remained there. They seemed a bit uncomfortable with Tom's new pet but he couldn't care less, for at that precise moment, Nott, Rosier, Avery, and Lestrange burst through the doors, all of them panting hard.

"News?" said Tom, calmly. The party instantly stopped and everyone stared.

"Yes, my lord," said Rosier. "The trolls have agreed. They are on our side."

"Good," said Tom.

"That's not all, my lord," said Lestrange.

Tom waited. The Death Eaters exchanged a few looks.

"The Ministry found out about this, sir," said Avery. "They've…they've declared war. The Ministry of Magic has officially declared a Wizarding War."

* * *

**Next chapter update will be next weekend and if you haven't already guessed, it will be called "The Wizarding War".**

**I really look forward to writing it and I promise that chapter will be long :) **

**Thank you!**


	25. The Wizarding War—Part 1

**Author's Note: Hey readers! It's that time of week again. Happy Friday! Hope you all had a pleasant week. Mine was disastrous but thankfully that's over now and the break has finally arrived! I can now sit down and write a bunch of chapters because I've really missed this story. I can't say yet how much I'll update exactly, but hopefully a lot, as my aim is to do one chapter a day, if not more. ****All I know is that I'm feeling very motivated. ****Also I'm sick right now so staying in bed all day really helps me to write with no distractions. We'll see how it goes. **

**Hope you like reading this chapter as much as I did writing it! It's got to be my favourite, by far. Please review and Happy Reading! Also, be warned for the minor sexual content. **

**PS. _The Single Fanboy_, I dedicate this one to you. Thanks for sticking by this story thus far.**

* * *

_...Tom waited. The Death Eaters exchanged a few looks._

_"The Ministry found out about this, sir," said Avery. "They've…they've declared war. The Ministry of Magic has officially declared a Wizarding War..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 25: THE WIZARDING WAR****—****PART 1**

The shrieking was louder than ever. Feet belonging to unknown characters were being dragged across the floor. Cackles of laughter and shrieks of loyalty filled the air. Unidentified men shouting that they got a couple of more. Mothers wailing at the deaths of their babies. And blood . . . everywhere.

He looked around helplessly from under the bench. He was so petite, fragile, weak, and helpless. And watching as his loyal Death Eaters were rounded up by aurors was hard enough without having to do it from the body of a cat—and a skeletal cat, at that. Though, the cat was small enough to remain concealed under the bench and so Tom kept its big yellow eyes firmly on Rodolphus and Bellatrix who were wailing on the bundles of ropes that were sinking into their very skins.

"TAKE THEM AWAY!" shouted a tall, moustached man Tom did not recognize.

The two were picked up and dragged away from the riotous scene. Both of them were now laughing that they would be back one day. Tom tried to look for his wand but it was nowhere to be found. He did not understand what was happening. Where had everything he worked towards gone to? Where were Avery and Rowle and Rosier when he needed them? And why on earth was he now struggling to survive as a barely human thing?

* * *

"WAKE UP!" hissed a loud voice in his ear.

Tom jerked awake. The room was abysmally dark and cold. Nagini was slithering around by the door, apparently excited about something. Tom looked down at his long legs covered by the black of his cloak. He touched his face with his long-fingered hands and felt the familiar features—his noselessness, his bulging red eyes, and his smooth, cold skin.

He was alive. It had only been a dream. But my, what a dream. He had never had one like it before. His mind sure was creative.

"My lord!" Nagini hissed again.

"What?" he said, still looking down at his long-fingered hands.

"It's morning!" Nagini replied from the doorway. "It's time to get up! You have a big day ahead of you!"

It took Tom several minutes to grasp just what Nagini was referring to. _Of course_. How could he have forgotten? Today, he—along with his main Death Eater group—were going to break into the Ministry of Magic and kidnap a ministry official who'd been writing some nasty things about them in the Daily Prophet. Though they'd done their research and learned that she was a half blood, they could not wait to use her as a demonstration for the kids during their next dinner party.

Tom slid off the bed and grabbed his wand. He crossed the room and gently stroked Nagini.

"Thank you," he said in a Parseltongue whisper.

He left the room and trotted down the stairs. As he walked, he conjured up a travelling cloak with his wand and had it wrap itself around him. He stopped in the kitchen, thought for a moment, and then disapparated.

He landed in a dark alleyway in London. He could hear muggle cars honking in the distance and people shouting holiday greetings at each other. A cat screeched somewhere in the distance and some men yelled. Tom casually strode out of the alleyway and walked along the snowy muggle street, keeping his head bowed beneath his black hood so that none of the muggles would see his unusual facial features. After several minutes, he finally reached the spot agreed upon several weeks before. He made his way to the back of a festive muggle shop until he reached another alleyway, this time crammed with people. _His_ people.

"My lord," they said in unison, all of them bowing their heads.

Tom fixed the hood on his head and nodded.

"Let's go."

The riot was like music to his ears. The Ministry of Magic had not expected it at all, and as the Death Eaters barged into the main headquarters, witches and wizards everywhere began to shriek with terror. They tried to run but the Death Eaters were too quick for them. Tom walked casually along as curses were being hit from every angle. He, Avery, Lestrange, Rowle, Rosier, Davis, Selwynn, and Nott were headed straight for the office of the doomed half-blood witch. She recognized them immediately and tried to make a run for it but Tom had quickly raised his wand and said, "Crucio".

The witch curled into a ball on the floor and her screams were drowned by the riot out in the corridors.

"Now," Tom said, lifting the curse.

Selwynn and Davis picked up the trembling witch and carried her out of the room. Satisfied, Tom and the others followed. The auror office had clearly not been alerted yet of the Death Eater group's intervene. Tom took advantage of this and instructed his forces to retreat. They ran for the fireplaces and disappeared behind the green flames before any of the Ministry workers could grasp them. By the time the last of them had disappeared, and Tom and his main group were the only ones remaining, the hall had grown silent. The remaining workers were either crying in the corners with fear that they would be killed, or flinching at pain as they lay in pools of blood. Smiling, Tom waved goodbye to them and then casually walked into the green flames of the fireplace on his right.

"Happy New Year!"

The glasses clinked together and the Death Eaters cheered loudly. It had been a most successful riot. The half-blood witch lay on the large table in the middle of the party room of Nott's mansion, barely alive. The Death Eaters were all gathered around her with drinks and food and holiday greetings. Tom was again standing in the corner, holding a glass of wine in his crossed arms. He was not big on celebrating things, but tonight, he was very happy indeed.

The next couple of months zoomed on by just as quickly as the first couple had. There was at least one riot every week, and each riot was as successful as the last. Still, Tom felt that something was missing. Even though he was at the very top of the Wizarding World now, and even though his Death Eaters were the most feared group in the history of magic, and even though they were celebrating virtually every single night, Tom felt that something was off. And, he was sure that this had something to do with the fact that Dumbledore had still not acted.

Dumbledore remained shut up in his pathetic castle, doing whatever it was he did these days. He was only a foolish, incompetent old man. But still, it bothered Tom that he wasn't doing anything. Everyone by now was aware of the war. The Ministry of Magic had come up with safety procedures, though they were useless against the Death Eaters. People with muggle blood in their systems were in hiding. Everyone everywhere knew the name Lord Voldemort, and children were already afraid to speak it. It was all that Tom could have hoped for back when he'd attended Hogwarts himself. But still...wasn't it Dumbledore's favourite pastime to play the role of the hero? Wasn't he absolutely destroyed at all the deaths and tortures that the Death Eaters had caused to date? Wasn't he planning some extravagant revolt that would put an end to the deadly war that had spread throughout the country?

"You're afraid!" Nagini whispered in a singsong.

"Shut up," Tom told her as he continued to scratch with his quill at the bit of parchment in his lap.

"I know you are," Nagini went on. "I can smell it."

"I said, shut up!" Tom said, a little more loudly this time.

Avery turned to stare at him, but said nothing.

The dinner party that night was a bit more quiet than usual because the Death Eaters had lost a few loyal Black members in a riot. Orion and his wife were sitting in the corner, reminiscing about their dead relatives. Regulus had stopped coming to the parties because he now attended Hogwarts with his older brother Sirius. As Tom had predicted, Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor house while Regulus was a faithful Slytherin. The Blacks had been afraid to show their faces for weeks after they'd discovered where their oldest son's loyalties lied. However, Tom was forgiving of this incident. He had more important things to think about.

"You're intimidated by him!" Nagini teased again.

Tom set down his quill and looked the snake in the eye.

"If you don't shut up right now, I will cook you."

Nagini seemed to be laughing at him as she curled around his feet.

"You would never," she hissed. "You like me too much."

"Not that much," Tom muttered, returning to his notebook.

An hour later, the Death Eaters began to depart from Nott's house. It was already very late and they were planning for their next riot to take place the following night. As the last of them left and it was only the main group left in the sitting room, Tom put down his quill again and eyed the drawing he had made. A black skeletal snake, whose tail was tied in several twisting knots, was staring back at him from the parchment. It seemed to shriek terror and agony.

"That's brilliant," Rosier said, as he sat next to Tom and eyed the drawing. "What's it for?"

"I haven't decided yet," Tom told him without looking up from the drawing.

"It looks sort of like a mark…" said Rosier, thoughtfully.

"A _dark_ mark," corrected Lestrange, who'd come to stand beside him and now eyed the drawing as well.

"Indeed, it does," said Tom, slowly. "Where did you come up with that, Lestrange?"

"Where else if not from your creative mind, sir?" laughed Lestrange, sitting down too.

Tom smiled slightly. He suddenly had a thought. Sure, the wizarding world was in conflict right now, and sure, they were aware that a group called the Death Eaters were responsible. However, no one seemed to know exactly who was a Death Eater and who wasn't. They certainly had the element of surprise on their side. But there still was a part of Tom that wanted to make sure the other side knew exactly which crimes the Death Eaters were responsible for. He had a sense of pride in them and wanted them recognized as his achievements.

Tom sat up, holding the drawing in the air.

"Avery, come here," he said.

Avery got to his feet and stood before Tom. Tom pulled out his wand and stood up too.

"Hold out your arm," he instructed and Avery obliged.

Tom held the drawing in front of Avery's arm and pulled his sleeve up to reveal the skin. He then dug his wand into Avery's skin and began to whisper a complicated spell he'd read about back when he worked at _Borgin and Burke's_. Avery was clearly in pain for his hands were now in fists and his eyes were shut tight. His face turned slightly pink and he kept his mouth shut so as not to whimper. The others stood around, watching curiously. It seemed to take hours before the spell was finally complete, but when Tom withdrew his wand and eyed his work, a sick smile crossed his face.

Avery's left arm now existed for a black tangled snake that shimmered and moved slightly . . . almost like a live tattoo. There was some blood around the edges from Tom's spell but he assured Avery that the blood would subside in a few weeks' time. Avery held his arm as he made his way back to his armchair and sunk into it. Tom turned around to face the others.

"Who's next?"

The Dark Mark had proven to be an effective method of claiming their crimes. Tom had administered it to the left arm of each and every one of his Death Eaters. He instructed them to point their wands at it whenever they committed a murderous crime. The result would be a Dark Mark conjured into the air and would remain there for one whole hour, letting passerby-ers know that a Death Eater was there. The Dark Mark was also an easy way for Tom to contact his Death Eaters. He only needed to touch the mark with his wand and they would all be summoned to him at once, through apparition.

Tom's biggest disappointment was on March 24, 1972, when, just two years into the war, Selwynn was killed by an unknown auror member. Tom had always known that Selwynn was weak but he had never expected so little from him. Such a disgrace. The Death Eaters drank to his memory but there was no proper funeral or anything of the sort. After all, it had only been Selwynn.

A few days after the incident however, Tom's mood was lifted at once. Bellatrix Black was done her training and officially became a Deatheater. After the ceremony, she strode over to talk to Tom, and let him know that according to her cousin Regulus (who was now in his second year at Hogwarts), there were many Slytherin students who were already plotting to join after graduation. Tom nodded at her enthusiasm on the subject but continued to watch Orion and Walburga Black, standing in the corner. They were odd wizards. How hard was it to control their oldest son? He was only a third-year, after all. Did they honestly have no more power over a pathetic little third-year?

"Ahh!" shrieked Bellatrix. Tom jumped up slightly.

He had not noticed her taking his copy of the Daily Prophet, but she was now holding it open in her hands and smiling with glee.

"What?" Tom said.

"Read!" she said excitedly, and she passed him the paper and sat on the edge of the armchair next to him, sipping from the wineglass he handed to her.

_It is no secret that we have all been living in a state of terror for quite some time now, especially these last two years. The Minister however is positive that all will soon come to a glorious end. _

_"I have reason to believe that we will be able to put a stop to this madness soon enough," he told Daily Prophet reporters Monday night after a crucial meeting with the Department of Mysteries. _

_Still, witches and wizards everywhere are talking about the Minister losing his touch. They are now openly requesting that Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, take on the job and restore peace to the wizarding world._

_Dumbledore has been unavailable for commenting on this, but fortunately, a few of our reporters were able to catch him in Hogsmeade Village last night. This was what he had to say:_

_"I am touched by the number of requests I've gotten, I really am. However, as I've mentioned countless times in the past, my heart belongs at Hogwarts and so my time and energy shall be kept there as well."_

_When asked about how he could stand aside and watch fellow witches and wizards falling to their deaths at the hands of the Death Eaters, Dumbledore responded, "I am most certainly not standing aside. It saddens me that this is what Lord Voldemort has come to. However, I feel it is important to keep things as normal and possible for the students at Hogwarts, under the current circumstances. Things have been pretty busy around here, I assure you. Right now, my biggest worry is finding a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this upcoming school year. As you may have noticed, we haven't been fortunate enough to sustain a single teacher for more than a year…"_

Tom looked up from the paper, a little stunned. Bellatrix was beaming at him.

"How did you—?"

"I met you that night when you went to ask Dumbledore for the teaching post, do you remember?" Bellatrix interrupted.

"And?" said Tom.

"And later I found out that you had asked him for the teaching post and that he'd rejected you."

"And?"

"And so I put the pieces together," said Bellatrix, simply but proudly. "You apply, you get rejected, and now the job is cursed!"

"What are you talking about?" said Tom, who now tossed the paper and folded his arms.

Bellatrix set the wineglass down and jumped to her feet, still smiling.

"Don't you see, my lord?" she said, brightly. "You placed a curse on the job. Dumbledore will not be able to keep a single teacher for longer than one year. Haven't you been keeping up with what has been happening to his staff?"

Tom shook his head.

"For my fifth-year, we had a plump old witch teaching the class and she suddenly fell terribly ill by the end of year. For sixth year, it was a tall man who was teaching us. He mysteriously disappeared by the end of that year as well."

"And?" said Tom.

"Well, this has been going on for quite some time, my lord!" exclaimed Bellatrix. "Each and every teacher has either fallen ill or disappeared or got killed."

Tom tried hard to suppress a smile but it gave in. Taking this as happiness, Bellatrix went on in her rant. Tom watched her carefully without saying a word for a long time. She was the most enthusiastic of the Blacks. Her parents were deceased, due to a riot that had occurred a few months back, but she still had her aunt and uncle and loads of cousins. Now at twenty-one years old, she was more determined than ever to help Tom conquer the world.

"…anyway, I assure you I always hated that spoiled little brat," she finished.

"Who?" said Tom, softly.

"S-Sirius," said Bellatrix, uncertainly. "My cousin?"

Tom had been watching her the whole time but it was apparent he had not taken in a word of what she had said. He had of course had his fun in the past with the occasional witch, but they had all been afraid of him. Bellatrix exhibited no such fear. None at all.

Now, Tom took hold of her hand and gently led her up the stairs to one of the spare bedrooms. He locked the door, set his wand on the desk and approached her.

"My lord?" she said, confused.

Tom moved some of the black curly hair from her face and smiled maliciously down at her. He put his arms around her and moved her towards him. He leaned forwards and put his lips to her ear.

"And then there were two," were his last whispered words before he pushed her down on the bed and took over.

Bellatrix had enjoyed every minute of it, perhaps even more than Tom had. She was very skilled for such a young woman and knew how to please a man, but it was apparent that afterwards, she had become attached to him.

From that day on, after every dinner party, Tom and Bellatrix would retreat to the bedroom upstairs. They were not quiet and they were never slow. The other Death Eaters knew what was going on and knew better than to interrupt or say anything to either of them...even as Tom dug his teeth into Bellatrix' flesh over and over again, causing several scars and scratches to form all over her body. Nevertheless, she was the happiest Death Eater these days, even as various members of her large family were getting killed off, one by one. For Bellatrix, the happiest moments were when she was Tom's to do with as he pleased. For Tom however, this was much less than that.

Though Bellatrix did have a perfect body and an equally perfect attitude towards the Dark Arts, Tom was sure that his feelings about their newly formed little friendship were very different from hers. Still, that did not stop him from possessing her body virtually every night until she collapsed with unconsciousness, too tired to carry on. They were amidst a war, after all, and men who fought in wars needed awarding.

On New Year's Eve, 1973, Tom decided to let Bellatrix in on a little secret. He needed to find a place to hide his Horcrux and the idea suddenly sprung to him. After their interactions, he turned around in the bed to look at Bellatrix and his face became serious.

"You want more?" she asked tiredly.

Clearly, she was starting to enjoy this relationship less and less. Though, Tom could not blame her. He never showed her any of the affection she so desperately fought for.

"No," he said simply. "I have to tell you something."

Worried, Bellatrix sat up and watched him carefully. There were several scratches on her face and arms from where Tom had bitten her, but she still had beauty in her figure.

"I have something I need you to keep," he said, quietly. "Something that is very important to me and I want it to stay safe with you."

Bellatrix beamed up at him.

"I will," she said immediately.

"You do understand, don't you?" said Tom, cautiously. "It is _very_ important to me and should anything happen to it, I _will_ kill you."

Bellatrix gulped loudly.

"I _will_ destroy you," Tom continued, "Without hesitation."

"I promise," said Bellatrix quickly. "I promise I will keep it safe, whatever it is, my lord. I promise. _I swear_."

"Good," said Tom, smiling at her. He put a hand to her cheek and stroked the scar. "You were always my favourite, Bella."

The next day, Tom returned to _Borgin and Burke's_ at an early hour and retrieved the Hufflepuff Cup from under the floorboards of his old bedroom. He had placed an enchantment on it years ago so that neither Borgin nor Burke would be able to house another resident in there. Without so much as a glance around his old bedroom, he disapparated with the Horcrux hidden inside his travelling cloak. Bellatrix was waiting for him at the front steps to Nott's mansion. He handed her the Horcrux and she hid it under her own cloak.

"What is it?" she tried to ask but Tom gave her a cold look which silenced her at once.

"Do not mention this to anyone," Tom warned.

"Yes, my Lord Voldemort," she said quietly, and then she was off.

She returned from Gringotts Bank later that night and gave Tom a little nod as she entered the sitting room, to let him know that all had worked as planned. Satisfied, Tom turned back to young Regulus who was home for the holidays, and continued with his tale of Salazar Slytherin. Regulus listened intently.

When he was finished, Tom sat back in his chair and eyed the little boy with some suspicion. Walburga Black had no doubt noticed for she casually made her way over to their side of the room and took a seat not far from them so she could eavesdrop on their conversation. Ignoring her, Tom said, "How are you, little one?" to Regulus.

"F-fine," said the boy, a little startled.

For 14 years old, he was quite bright and very obedient.

"How is dear old Hogwarts?" said Tom.

"F-f-fine," said the boy.

"And your brother?" said Tom. "What is he up to these days?"

"That worthless boy is not a part of this family anymore," Walburga announced.

Tom turned to stare at her.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"We have disowned him," said Walburga.

Tom glanced at Regulus who was now looking down at the ground.

"He ran away," the boy said quietly, "Last night."

"Ran away?" Tom repeated. "Where is he? I shall have a talk with him."

"He's with that blood traitor family," Walburga spat. She was obviously very angry about her oldest son's actions, and had no problem expressing this anger in the presence of the Dark Lord.

"Where did he go?" Tom directed his question at Regulus.

"James Potter's house," Regulus answered.

"Look at me when I talk to you," Tom snapped and Regulus quickly lifted his head and met his eyes. "Potter…as in Charlus Potter's son?"

"Yes, sir," said Regulus quietly.

Tom thought for a moment.

"He married a relative of yours," he finally said to Walburga. "Dorea Black, I believe."

"She has also been disowned," Walburga muttered in response.

"You don't say?" said Tom, who was slightly amused. "Tell me, Walburga, who else has your family disowned? How many of your relatives are blood traitors and friends of mudbloods?"

Walburga swallowed loudly.

"I'm not sure," she finally said.

"Liar," spat Tom. "TELL THE TRUTH."

Walburga had jumped in alarm but did not leave her seat. She kept her eyes firmly on the ground as she spoke.

"Cygnus' daughter Andromeda."

"Bella's sister," Tom declared.

The witch nodded.

"What has she done?"

"She…she married a mudblood by the name of Edward Tonks, m-my lord."

Tom frowned. How could witches and wizards from respectable pureblood families disgrace themselves like so by associating with _that _lot? He did not understand it. But at that moment, he was distracted by something he saw happening at the back of the room. Bella's younger sister, Narcissa, was laughing with Malfoy's boy, Lucius. She was giggling like a stupid little schoolgirl and he was watching her with intense hunger. The sight pleased Tom very much. Amidst all this confusion and betrayal, there were still proper witches and wizards out there who knew better than to meddle with dirty blood. Here were two examples, standing before him, both from pureblood wizarding families.

Once 1975 came around the corner, Tom had decided that if Dumbledore were to act, he would have done it by now. Pleased, Tom instructed his Death Eaters to start going after the students of Hogwarts and the villagers of Hogsmeade. Dumbledore responded by heightening up the security around the Hogwarts grounds, making it impossible for Tom or his Death Eaters to even come near them.

No one from the Ministry or the rest of the wizarding world knew for sure if the people with whom they were interacting worked for Lord Voldemort or not, and that was the way Tom liked it. Each week, the Daily Prophet reported on another sighting of the Dark Mark and several other deaths caused by the Death Eaters. Tom participated in these little adventures as well…quite a lot, now that he was sure Dumbledore was not in his way. But when Tom was a part of the adventure, his Death Eaters had the most fun.

Tom's idea of entertainment was sickening and amusing to them. For instance, they cornered a half-blood family on one occasion. Simply killing them would be no fun. Therefore, Tom resigned to using a little more advanced magic. He pointed his wand at them and cried "Legiliments!" The father squirmed and moaned as he collapsed to the floor. Visions of his son and daughter enduring the Cruciatus curse were forming in his head. Tom laughed cruelly as the man begged him to stop and his children stood nearby, sheltered by their weeping mother.

"What?" said Tom innocently as the mother watched him with fear. "It's not funny enough? Hmm…."

The visions changed. The father, now trembling and whimpering on the floor, shouted "KILL ME!" as he watched Voldemort and his Death Eaters doing disturbing things to his family.

"KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL MEEEEE!" the man shouted over and over again.

Tom lifted the curse and frowned.

"Already?" he said. "I must say I'd hoped for better resistance, old friend. Oh well."

He lifted his wand and a jet of red light hit the man. The woman who was standing in the corner shrieked and held her children closer to her. Avery stepped forwards and killed the little boy who collapsed to the ground next to his father. Bellatrix, who was cackling evilly, took on the mother, and Rodolphus, Lestrange's son, smiled down at the girl.

"Come with us," he said to her, kindly.

Her face was covered in tears and she stood in the corner, frozen and trembling.

"He said, 'come with us'," declared Tom.

The girl did not move. Feeling impatient, Tom pointed his wand at her and said, "Imperio."

The girl instantly stepped forwards as her eyes became wide with alertness.

The Death Eaters brought her back to Nott's mansion for the evening dinner party. The girl was made to hop stupidly around the dinner table as the Death Eaters cried with laughter and some even mocked her. Regulus looked a little disturbed by the sight but stood watching. Narcissa and Bellatrix were jumping around in circles, laughing wildly.

Feeling pleased with his night's work, Tom summoned a young witch who was standing nearby, laughing, and beckoned for her to join him upstairs. Just before he disappeared at the top of the stairs, he caught sight of Bellatrix who had stopped dancing and laughing, and was staring at him with complete and utter shock.

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**Wow, so that took a major turn, in my opinion. This must be the darkest chapter in this story yet.. As I've mentioned earlier though, I would go into detail about the horrible things that Voldemort did in the first Wizarding war. As for his relationship with Bellatrix, I feel very proud of it. She is obviously obsessed with him and obeying him...she is also growing fearful..and Voldemort is simply using her and doesn't care for love and affection. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know if you have any questions. I will update PART 2 of the Wizarding War either tonight or tomorrow and I promise that after I end Voldemort's 'relationship' with Bellatrix, the story will be canon once again. Thank you! **

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K. Rowling. Thanks. **


	26. The Wizarding War—Part 2

**Author's Note: This is the longest chapter by far. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters. All rights to J.K Rowling. Thanks. **

**Dedication: Mapleleaf40, this one's for you. Thank you for sticking by the story thus far and for your kind reviews! **

* * *

_...Feeling pleased with his night's work, Tom summoned a young witch who was standing nearby, laughing, and beckoned for her to join him upstairs. Just before he disappeared at the top of the stairs, he caught sight of Bellatrix who had stopped dancing and laughing, and was staring at him with complete and utter shock..._

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**CHAPTER 26: THE WIZARDING WAR—PART 2:**

Bellatrix did not confront Tom for his betrayal. In fact, as the weeks passed by, she became slightly more fearful of him than she'd ever cared to show. She never did or said anything to show that she had perfectly understood what Tom had done with that witch upstairs. Instead, Bellatrix remained pleasant and present at every dinner party. Tom however, did not take her upstairs with him again. He had lost interest in it completely.

Another harsh winter came and went. Tom accompanied the Death Eaters on many of their expeditions and did so much more Legiliments that the Death Eaters now liked to privately call him The Mind Devil. It was all good fun of course, but Tom knew that many of them were deeply disturbed by the vile images that he created in the minds of his victims, all designed of course to torture them into madness.

Tom did manage to recruit some wonderful new members, including a vicious werewolf by the name of Greyback. Greyback had a thirst for cruelty and a knack for procuring it. He was vile and had a dangerous imagination, much like Tom's. He constantly told the story of how not long ago, he'd bitten a young child somewhere in the woods and how Dumbledore now took pity on that child. Greyback liked to play with his food before he actually sat down to enjoy it, which amused Tom very much. He would be sure to keep him around.

In the fall of 1976, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black married. The Death Eaters decided to celebrate the marriage with something they never did—by having a little party at Nott's mansion. Everyone was thrilled and toasted to the happy couple…everyone except for Bellatrix. She stood in the corner with her wine glass, watching intently as Narcissa beamed up at her new husband. Tom watched Bellatrix carefully. She had not changed her attitude towards him at all but when she thought he wasn't looking, he could see immense sadness shadowing her face. Finally, as if she were unable to take it any longer, she decided to confront Tom.

As the wedding celebrations progressed, Bellatrix casually made her way across the room and finally ended up right next to Tom. They stood side by side, watching the happy couple dance around the room and laugh with the others. Finally, Bellatrix set her wine glass down.

"My lord," she said, softly. "Come with me."

She tugged at his arm but he made no effort to follow her up the stairs and instead continued to watch his Death Eaters.

"My lord!" Bellatrix tried again. "Please! I've…I've longed for you."

"I'm not interested," Tom said, coolly, without meeting her eyes.

Bellatrix was silent for a long minute. She slowly let go of his arm and turned to look at the Death Eaters but did not move from her spot.

"I d-don't understand," she finally said, in barely more than a whisper.

"You're just not that interesting," Tom said, and without even glancing at her, he set his wine glass down and went to sit with Avery, who had been shuffling some cards in the corner by himself.

"What's up with her?" Avery asked as the pair glimpsed Bellatrix wiping a tear and trotting up the stairs by herself. Moments after, Lestrange's oldest son followed her.

"She hasn't had any in a while," Tom replied.

Avery shrugged.

"I have a question," Tom said a moment later.

"Shoot," said Avery as he laid out the cards in various patterns on the table before him.

"Everyone else has married," Tom pointed out, thoughtfully. "Look at Lestrange and Rosier and Rowle. . . even Nott, however ugly he is. But you, I've noticed, haven't even had any prospects. Why is that?"

Avery froze. There was a sudden color change in his face and he slowly put down the card that had begun to tremble in his hand.

"I'm not sure…" he began, but Tom laughed out loud.

"I can find you someone, it's no problem!" he exclaimed. "There's no need to be ashamed of it."

Avery smiled weakly.

"Alright?" said Tom, clapping Avery once on the back.

"Alright," said Avery with a nervous laugh.

"That's the spirit," said Tom and he turned to look at Narcissa and Lucius again.

They were the new favourite Death Eater couple and seemed to shine and sparkle wherever they went. Who would Tom assign to Avery? Perhaps he'd track down that blood traitor Andromeda Black and force her to marry him. If he killed that worthless husband of hers, there would be nothing holding her back.

"Do you ever think about it?" Avery suddenly asked him.

Tom turned to stare at him.

"About…about Selwynn," Avery clarified.

"No," said Tom, not sure where he was getting at.

"It's just…it's just hard to believe that he's really gone."

"People come and go, Avery," said Tom.

"I know," said Avery, sadly. "But h-he was our childhood f-f-friend. I mean, w-we played Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess. W-we visited Hogsmeade together a-and laughed at old Jonathan Buckley. D-don't you ever—?"

"No," said Tom.

Avery grew quiet.

"I'm not big on nostalgia," said Tom, and then he turned to look at Walburga, who sat not far from him.

"That relative of yours, Andromeda," he said to her, "Where does she live? Do you know?"

"N-n-no, my l-lord," said Walburga, a little startled.

Tom smacked his lips and looked around.

"Send a search party to come and fetch her," he finally instructed.

"I will but, sir, m-may I a-ask w-w-why?" said Walburga.

"Avery here needs a wife," said Tom, simply.

Avery's color changed again and he resumed playing with his cards.

"Otherwise he'll spend all his time crying over Selwynn," added Tom.

"B-but Andromeda is a-already m-m-married," protested Walburga. "She is now Andromeda Tonks."

Tom rolled his eyes.

"So get rid of the mudblood husband!" he said. "Merlin's beard, you are unwise, Walburga. Be thankful you have beauty."

Walburga opened her mouth to speak but then closed it quickly. Tom waited. She seemed to be struggling with something but finally decided to spit it out.

"They have a child," she said quickly. "And I know this because I heard from Regulus who heard from Sirius who keeps in touch because he is a traitor too. And…and I don't think you should go after the child. She is only a baby and she hasn't done anything wrong. Go after Sirius, _he_ betrayed us. Give the child a chance to choose a side, my lord. I've heard she has special powers and would be most useful to us."

Tom frowned.

"You are ordering me or advising me?" he finally said, very quietly.

Walburga swallowed loudly.

"N-neither, m-my lord," she said.

"You are such a filthy liar," Tom muttered.

He drew out his wand and pointed it directly between Walburga's eyes, muttering "Legiliments".

He instantly saw visions of Walburga giving birth to her oldest, Sirius. He saw Sirius crying with agony as she slapped him hard on Regulus' 5th birthday. He saw Sirius pleading with his mother as she stormed the Hogwarts halls in rage that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor. He saw her shrieking at him the night he ran away. He saw her crying as she snapped his name on the Black Family Tree hours later.

Tom withdrew from Walburga's mind. She stumbled backwards a little bit and gasped. The other Death Eaters had stopped the party and were all now watching very intently. Silence filled the room.

"You are always thinking about him," Tom finally said to Walburga, who stood trembling with fear.

"I d-do n-not," tried Walburga, but once Tom was already convinced of something, there was no changing his mind. He rose to his feet and put away his wand.

"I expected better from you," he said to Walburga before he started for the stairs.

"I do not always think about him!" Walburga called after him.

Tom stopped at the doorway and slowly turned around to face her.

"Keep this up and it'll be _you_ who gets disowned," were the last words he said to her that night.

The very next day, Tom had that terrible dream again and woke in the middle of the night, gasping for precious air. He waited until the dinner party and then stormed at Walburga, convinced that it was the stress she had caused him the previous night that had elucidated his dream. Walburga fell to her knees and begged for forgiveness, but Tom was too tired of her lies and inflicted the Cruciatus curse on her instantly. Orion shrieked in protest and, feeling impatient, Tom pointed his wand at him and roared "CRUCIO!" The Death Eater too, fell to the floor and shrieked in pain. Tom stared around the room of shocked Death Eaters, all of whom were too frightened to move or say a word.

"Get them out of my sight," Tom instructed Lestrange who bowed his head once and together with Greyback and Rosier, took hold of Walburga and Orion Black and helped them out of the room.

Tom walked over to where Nagini was crawling and leaned down.

"How are you, my darling?" he whispered in Parseltongue, as though he had not just tortured two of his followers.

"Bored," hissed Nagini. "I wish you'd feed me properly."

"I'm sorry," said Tom. "There haven't been very many riots lately."

"Even when there were, you _never _took me along!" complained Nagini.

Tom sighed.

"The world is just not ready to see you yet," he told her, stroking her with his long fingers. "The time will come soon."

"Yeah, yeah," said Nagini.

"My lord!" said Lestrange, who had returned.

Tom stood up to face him.

"What is it?" he said.

"What are we to tell Regulus?" said Lestrange.

"Nothing," shrugged Tom.

The other Death Eaters stared.

"M-my lord," said Lestrange, as Tom moved over to the couch and lounged on it. "Shouldn't we explain…shouldn't we take some responsibility?"

"Lestrange, you're boring me," said Tom, dully.

Lestrange paused.

"He deserves to know," he said quietly. "H-his parents will be recovering for a while, I expect."

Tom looked up at him incredulously.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I s-said… the boy deserves to know."

The other Death Eaters stared, all wide-eyed and shocked. Tom rose to his feet and came so close to Lestrange that his nose was almost touching Tom's flat face.

"You say one word and I'll feed you to my snake," warned Tom.

Lestrange swallowed loudly and did not say another word.

Tom's next piece of thrilling news arrived just a few days later when Bellatrix announced that she and Rodolphus were married. The Death Eaters decided to throw another party in celebration. Tom found this to be very amusing. Nevertheless, he attended the party and drank to the happy couple. Once the celebrations subsided and conversations began, Tom made his way over to where Bellatrix stood. She was receiving congratulations from Rabastan, Lestrange's youngest son, when Tom interrupted.

"Go get a drink," he instructed Rabastan.

He bowed his head once and walked away quickly. Bellatrix avoided Tom's eyes and watched the crowd instead. Tom stood next to her, his eyes also on the crowd.

"Congratulations," he said to her.

"Thank you," she said, in a slightly trembling voice.

"I must say, I am a little surprised," chuckled Tom.

Bellatrix frowned.

"At what, my lord?"

"At _you_, Bella. You are an extraordinary witch."

"Thank you," said Bellatrix, slowly.

Tom frowned at her but a smile crossed his face.

"Are you not angry with me for hurting your aunt and uncle?"

Bellatrix did not answer.

"You mustn't get too attached to him," Tom added, watching Rodolphus laughing in the distance with Narcissa and Lucius. "These are dark times, there is no denying it. And one of these days, you will come home and he will be dead."

Bellatrix turned in shock and gaped at Tom.

"Y-y-you're not…you wouldn't…a-are you…?"

"If he doesn't do anything to upset me, I won't kill him, but he might die at the hands of someone else," said Tom, simply.

"Well, love will save us!" said Bellatrix stubbornly.

"Ah, the old argument," said Tom. "_Love_… tell me, where has _love_ gotten anyone? My, have you learned _nothing_ from me?"

"I…" began Bellatrix, but Tom was not finished.

"Am I going to have a problem with you, Ms. _Lestrange_?"

"Not at all!" Bellatrix said quickly. "I am yours forever to command, my lord."

"Oh, _I_ know that, but the question is, do _you_?"

Bellatrix stared at him for a moment and then bowed her head very low.

"I am sorry, sir," she said quietly. "I am yours to command…yours to do with as you please. I am your most loyal servant. I will be at your service until the day I die. I swear it on all of my heart."

"Mhm," said Tom, who was a little distracted by the commotion at the front doors.

Regulus had just arrived. The other Death Eaters gathered around him to congratulate him on making Slytherin Prefect. Regulus beamed at them all, apparently unaware of the recent tortures of his parents. He nodded and smiled as the Death Eaters took turns patting his back.

"…and I don't care if you've been with others, I will always be yours…" Bellatrix was still on her knees and she was now weeping at Tom's feet.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, and he pushed away from her and approached Regulus.

"Well done, Regulus!" he said, feigning excitement.

He put an arm around Regulus and chuckled loudly as he led him to the centre of the room. The other Death Eaters suddenly became very quiet as they waited for Tom to break the news to Regulus. Everyone else was too frightened to speak of it so no one had said a word to the boy. Tom sat with him at the table and smiled brightly.

"And how is dear old Sirius taking these news?" he asked.

"I don't know, we don't talk, my lord," said Regulus, innocently.

Tom nodded.

"Do not worry, the time will come when he will have no choice but to talk to you. But for now, let us drink."

He handed Regulus a glass of wine which he hesitantly took in his slightly trembling hand.

They raised their glasses, yelled "TO REGULUS", and drank.

"Where are my mum and dad?" said Regulus, looking around the room.

"Ah," said Tom, who frowned seriously as he put his glass down. "Let us take a walk, Regulus. There are some things I'd like to discuss with you."

Together, they rose from the table and departed from the room. Tom led him outside and walked along the back garden with him in the late evening. The music inside the house resumed and the conversations started up again.

"I am afraid there is some bad news," Tom began.

He could almost hear Regulus' heart thumping loudly against his chest.

"They were tortured a couple of days ago, son," said Tom, who was now feigning sadness so well, it was almost funny to him.

Regulus froze. His mouth fell open but no words came out. His eyes had widened and a few tears were lingering inside them. Silently congratulating himself on his excellent acting abilities, Tom put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder and sighed.

"I am very sorry, young one," he said as they started walking again. "But with wars, you have to understand that these things do happen. And your mother and father are recovering and will be back with us very soon, I'm sure, but I'm also sure they would want you to avenge them."

Regulus slowly nodded.

"But _we_ will take care of you for now," Tom added, looking back at the house full of Death Eaters.

"Who did it?" said Regulus in a constricted voice.

Tom pretended to be startled and then sighed heavily.

"It was Lestrange. He did it."

Tom knew exactly why he'd said it. He had wanted to punish Lestrange for humiliating him in front of the others ever since it'd happened. But why simply kill him when he could have him killed and earn a Regulus? Killing two birds with one stone was the only way Tom liked to operate.

"_Lestrange?!_" cried Regulus. "WHY?! WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO _HIM?!_"

"Well you see son, they didn't approve of his son marrying your cousin," Tom invented wildly.

"Bella," gasped Regulus. "But..."

"Seeing as how her parents are dead, yours are now like her primary caregivers," explained Tom, whose mind was now wandering as to where Nagini was lingering and whether she fancied a walk with him.

"But she's not a child!" said Regulus, just as Tom decided that Nagini would join him anywhere, anytime.

"And neither are you," said Tom, who stopped walking and looked at him seriously. "You are a man, Regulus. And you have a spot in my ranks, you do."

Regulus met his eyes.

"The only question is…do you want it?"

* * *

A few months later, Regulus stormed into one of the Death Eater dinner parties in a rage and shouted AVADA KEDAVRA at Lestrange, who had been pouring himself another glass of wine. Lestrange tumbled to the floor at once, his eyes still wide and staring off into the distance without seeing. Some of the Death Eaters screamed as they had not expected this at all. Rodolphus and Rabastan stormed at Regulus but Tom cast a knockback jinx at the pair of them and they stumbled backwards. Bellatrix ran to her husband's aid while Tom approached Regulus, who was still shaking with rage. Tom slowly lowered Regulus' wand and then put another hand on his shoulder.

"Do it now," said Regulus through gritted teeth.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your position in my ranks—"

"Of course I am!"

"—then you will address me as 'sir' or 'master'," finished Tom.

He froze suddenly, as his brain searched for the memory with which he connected this moment. He could see Dumbledore now, laughing as Tom mirrored his exact words to him on the day they first met, back in the orphanage all those years ago.

"Please sir," said Regulus, interrupting Tom's dark thoughts, "Please give me the mark. I am ready."

"Yes, you are," said Tom, and he quickly withdrew his wand as Regulus rolled up his left sleeve and got to work.

1977 was Tom's worst year yet. A lot had happened that year that set Tom on edge. It was as though every single day brought bad news. Davis and Nott were also killed in the war, as were many others of Tom's most loyal followers. Nott's son, Nott Jr, had inherited his mansion and so the Death Eater parties continued to take place there.

As if things weren't bad enough, the ministry gave its auror office permission to use the unforgivable curses on the Death Eaters should they encounter them. But the worst news of all…the most alarming and the most frightening…Dumbledore had founded a secret organization called the Order of the Phoenix, whose main purpose was to bring down Lord Voldemort and restore so-called peace to the wizarding world.

Tom was furious. He was raged. As soon as Orion informed him of this, Tom disapparated with Nagini to a cliff somewhere and stalked around for hours, hissing furiously in Parseltongue. So Dumbledore had finally chosen to act. But this organization was surely no match for Tom and his Death Eaters. What was Dumbledore expecting the order to accomplish? Did he really think that they could rise and defeat the great Lord Voldemort? Did he really think that they actually stood a chance?

A sudden alarming thought entered Tom's mind like a sharp knife. He stumbled backwards a little and sat down on the cliff. Nagini circled him but knew better than to say anything this time. Tom's head was actually spinning and he pulled out his wand and cast all the calming charms he could think of. As his wand twirled round and round in the air, Tom's breathing slowed a little.

_His Horcruxes_. They were his priority right now. He would have to hide and secure each and every one of his precious Horcruxes before he even got around to fighting back Dumbledore and his little army. But where to begin? He'd already hidden Marvolo's ring and the Hufflepuff Cup and Slytherin's Locket and Ravenclaw's Diadem. But were they truly safe in their hiding spots? He'd have to revisit each one and add more protective enchantments. Well, no one truly knew where Ravenclaw's Diadem was so that one he could scratch off the list. Marvolo's ring would need revisiting, yes, and Bellatrix had hidden Hufflepuff's Cup in her vault and wouldn't dream of letting anything happen to it. So it was really Slytherin's Locket that was in danger. Tom did remember to place several enchantments around that cave. But how to check if they actually worked? Maybe if he found a Death Eater he didn't need whom he could use to test his charms.

"Oh you don't want to do that, my lord," said Nagini.

Tom started a bit. He had not realised that he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. Nagini was now sitting in his lap and caressing his arm affectionately.

"Why not?" said Tom.

"Well you'll need all the men you can get!" said Nagini, in a sort of tone that suggested it was most obvious.

"What shall I do then?" said Tom.

"Do what your heart tells you!"

Tom glared down at the snake who started laughing wildly.

"I'm sorry, I just had to try it," she cackled. "You have to admit, Dumbledore does have a way with words."

"Yeah," muttered Tom, who was not amused.

"My lord," said Nagini, who was now serious again. "You have an entire army at your service. Surely at least one of them has some useless old servant lurking around whom you could borrow for this little experiment?"

"Servant," repeated Tom, thoughtfully.

And then it hit him. _Of course!_ He'd heard Regulus discussing him not long ago! _How_ could he have missed it?

"I told you that you need me," said Nagini cleverly.

Tom jumped to his feet, causing her to roll off. She hissed furiously for a moment but had no time to say anything because they quickly apparated back to Nott's mansion where the dinner party had subsided. The Death Eaters all sprung to their feet at Tom's appearance, expecting terrible news.

"Go on," Tom instructed them, and just like that, the party came alive again.

Tom found the Blacks quickly. They'd been talking to Bellatrix and Narcissa in the corner of the room when Tom dragged both Orion and Walburga away.

"Where is your son?" he barked at them.

"T-t-there, m-my lord," said Orion, pointing at where Regulus sat, talking to Avery.

Tom dragged him towards one of the bedrooms upstairs. He locked the door quickly and turned to face him, his own face as serious as it could get.

"How long have you been a Death Eater now?" he asked the startled boy.

"Uh, a few months, my lord," answered Regulus, who looked to be a bit frightened.

"Sit down," said Tom.

Regulus sat.

Tom began to slowly circle the room, with his hands behind his back and his snake slithering at his feet. Regulus eyed the snake for a long time and looked as though he was unable to breathe.

"I have a request to make of you, Regulus," began Tom. "You are a very clever boy—perhaps even more intelligent than many of the grownups downstairs—and so I'm sure you'll understand why I insist you keep this between us."

"Of course, my lord," said Regulus.

"I have some important business to take care of," continued Tom. "You see… a long time ago, I hid something very dear to me in a distant cave. It is an object of extraordinary power and if something were to happen to it, I'm afraid things would get even uglier than they have been thus far."

"I understand," said Regulus, whose eyes were still lingering on the giant snake.

"And so," said Tom, who was now standing at the window with his back to Regulus. "It is crucial that I provide every bit of protection to this object. Surely you understand that I need to test this protection…to see if it works. And so I need to use someone to help me test it."

"M-m-me?" said Regulus suddenly. "I…surely you w-wouldn't…"

"Oh no," said Tom quickly. "No, my dear boy, I didn't mean _you_!"

Regulus sighed with relief.

"I meant that house elf of yours," said Tom simply.

"K-Kreacher?" said Regulus.

"Sure, I heard you talking about him not long ago," said Tom. "You said he has been in your family for generations."

"Y-yes," said Regulus. "He h-has, but m-my lord, I don't think my mother and father want anything to happen to him."

"What do you know about what they want?" shot Tom.

Regulus was alarmed but said nothing.

"I am ordering you to assist me with this task," said Tom, who was no longer smiling and no longer pleasant.

Regulus stared at him.

"It is not a request," Tom clarified. "It is an order. Are you going to disobey me, Black?"

"N-no, of course n-not, m-my l-l-lord!" stammered Regulus, who was now on his feet. "I am just…I admit I'm confused as to why you're asking m-me…and not my m-mum and d-d-d-ad."

"You are the youngest Death Eater by far, and the cleverest, as I can tell," said Tom.

Regulus gave him a small smile.

"Anyway, summon the creature for me," said Tom. "We shall go tomorrow night."

Regulus bowed his head and turned to leave.

"You know," said Tom, stopping him. "I am not a forgiving man."

Regulus frowned.

"I do not like dishonesty," explained Tom. "I do not like deceit."

Regulus forced a little smile.

"That's ironic, seeing as how you're the most deceitful wizard I know, sir."

Tom smiled too.

"Yes, and deceit comes with cleverness and extraordinary power."

"Sir?"

"I can read minds, you know," said Tom. "I can tell if others deceit me."

"Of course," said Regulus.

"I will not hesitate to kill you if you deceit me, Regulus," said Tom, quietly.

"I w-wouldn't dream of it," said Regulus.

"Good," said Tom, turning back to the window. "Because it was I who tortured your mother and father."

The room was filled with silence as the boy took in this information.

"You may return to the party," Tom said finally.

"Y-yes, my lord," said Regulus and he was out the door.

Tom remained in the quiet of the room for the rest of the evening. He had lots on his mind now and was not up to little dinner parties these days. There was so much to do before he could even think about dealing with Dumbledore. And so it was that the very next day, Tom sat down his main Death Eater group and ordered them to find out everything they could about the Order of the Phoenix, who were its members, and how to get a hold of them.

While Tom was busy securing the locations of his various Horcruxes, the Death Eaters were busy tracking the members of the Order of the Phoenix. That night, Regulus arrived at the dinner party with the Black family house elf. Orion and Walburga stared, both confused, but said nothing. The elf bowed low to Tom while the other Death Eaters laughed at its appearance. Tom however, did not smile.

"What is your name, slave?" he directed at the elf, ignoring Walburga's whispers to Orion.

"Kreacher, sire," said the elf, whose head was so bowed that its long pointed nose was touching the hardwood floors.

"How long have you served the Black family, slave?" asked Tom.

"For generations, sire," answered the elf.

"And has there ever been an occasion when you have disobeyed your masters?"

"No sire, of course not, sire," squeaked the elf.

Tom rose to his feet and eyed the elf carefully.

"Why should I believe you?" he asked it.

"Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black," answered the elf, very quickly. "Kreacher believes in the Blacks and their teachings. Kreacher loves purebloods and hates mudbloods and blood traitors alike. Kreacher does anything and everything he is ordered by his masters. Kreacher—"

"—sure talks a lot," Tom finished for him. He gave Walburga and Orion a nasty look.

The elf was instantly silenced.

"Do you know who I am, _Kreacher_?" said Tom, quietly.

"No, sir, Kreacher has not met thee yet, sir," said the elf.

Tom turned to stare at the Blacks who stood nearby. Walburga's gaze immediately fell to her feet and she even took a step back. Orion was also staring at the ground. Without warning, without even thinking it, Tom let his foot fly right into Kreacher's face, causing him to topple backwards and shriek in pain. Kreacher's entire nose was bleeding as he wept and tried to wipe it with the sleeve of his filthy rags.

"Kreacher, I order you to accompany me tonight on a little expedition," said Tom, who was now pulling on his travelling cloak.

"Yes, sire," said the elf, who stumbled to his feet and kept his head bowed.

Regulus, who'd brought both hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming in protest, turned to follow them out the door, but was unexpectedly stopped by Tom.

"_You_ will not be going anywhere with us," Tom told him.

"But sir—" said Regulus.

"I am ordering you to stay here."

"I can't do that, sir," said Regulus quickly, and he even glanced back at his mother and father who stood, absolutely paralyzed with shock. "I am one of Kreacher's masters. Kreacher lives to serve the house of Black and he will listen to a Black only."

"I am more powerful than any wizarding law," Tom reminded him. "A simple house elf will be of no bother to me."

"I…" said Regulus, but Tom was surprised at how disobedient he was that he decided to jinx him.

Regulus had not seen the wand coming and so he flew backwards at tremendous speed and gasped loudly. Walburga buried her face in her husband's shoulder and the other Death Eaters also stopped to watch the scene, all of them alarmed.

"Next time, you'll know better," said Tom, simply. He turned to where Nagini was sitting on the arm of a couch. "Nagini, come!"

The snake slithered over to where Tom stood and, without waiting for Regulus to stand up, Tom, the snake, and the elf disapparated.

When they returned later that night, Tom was positively pleased and had forgotten all about the events that had occurred moments before his departure. Regulus obviously had not forgotten, for he remained in his little corner at the back of the room and did not stumble forwards to greet Tom like the rest of the Death Eaters. Orion and Walburga were also fairly quiet for the remainder of the evening.

Kreacher looked as though he had been forced to swallow a thousand deadly poisons, which was partially true. Though, Tom did not care to discuss the events of that evening with anyone and had sworn Kreacher to secrecy. He was sure that no wizarding law would permit Kreacher to reveal anything that had occurred in the cave…not even to his own masters.

Kreacher stumbled forwards to join Regulus and together, they departed from the party. Tom did not pay attention to either of them and simply accepted a drink from Lucius and went to sit at the end of the table, ignoring Walburga and Orion completely. Lucius and Narcissa sat on the opposite end and Bellatrix and Rodolphus joined, along with Nott Jr, Rosier and his son, Rosier Jr, and Avery, who looked like he hadn't slept in years.

"Would it kill you to clean yourself up a bit?" Tom said to Avery.

Avery did not answer but continued to stare at him.

"My, you _desperately_ need a wife," said Tom. He turned to look at Narcissa.

"Any word on your older sister?"

"M-me?" said Bellatrix, confused.

"Not everything revolves around _you_, Bella," said Tom, a little annoyed. "I meant the blood traitor."

"Andromeda," said Narcissa, quickly. "Yes, well…my lord, she and her husband are well protected…their daughter too. I'm afraid not much can be done."

Walburga, who had come to join them at the table, nodded.

"Fine," sighed Tom. "What about the Potters? Have you found them yet?"

"We have, my lord," said Nott Jr, "They refused to join so we killed them."

"Excellent," said Tom, and he took a sip of his drink.

"But their son remains," Nott added shortly after. "He is a known member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"I see," said Tom, coolly. "A respectable pureblood wizard who doesn't know what he's doing simply because Dumbledore got to him first…No matter, we'll just have to bring him in and have him sort out his priorities."

"My lord, I'm afraid that is not possible," said Rosier. "All of the Order members are well protected."

"Dumbledore has made sure of it," added Rowle.

"And they are being very stubborn about meeting with any of us," said Rosier.

"Then you must be more persuasive," said Tom. "Clearly you haven't learned anything from your time as a Death Eater. Could it be that you have grown too old to carry on, Rosier?"

"Of course not, my lord," said Rosier. "I only meant that perhaps you were to send a message somehow, instead of meeting them directly."

Tom thought for a moment.

"That's actually not a bad idea," he said, slowly. "Very well then, we shall send a message. I—"

"My lord," said Rowle. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I feel that you should know…"

Tom waited.

"My lord… James Potter is involved with a…with a mudblood…by the name of Lily Evans."

"Is he now?" said Tom.

"Apparently though, she is the brightest witch Hogwarts has had since your departure," said Narcissa. "That's what they say, anyway."

"HA!" laughed Greyback, who seemed to have choked on his bit of wine.

"But a _mudblood_?" said Tom, who smiled slightly at Greyback's weirdness. "Come now, are they really _that_ daft—Purebloods?"

"I'm afraid they are," laughed Rosier.

"Oh _fine _then," said Tom, who sighed heavily. "Send her a message too. I want both of them. If Potter has the slightest bit of intellect, he'll convince his little mudblood to join us and perhaps she will be a good demonstration of how _kind _we can be."

The Death Eaters at the table roared with laughter.

"You should also try recruiting the Longbottoms, sir," said Rowle. "I've heard a great deal about them. They have talent and they're Purebloods—both of them."

"Alright," said Tom, sipping his drink again.

"Ironic," said Lucius. "This Order is meant to fight the most powerful wizards in the world and yet it contains some of the best. If only they had their priorities straight..."

Tom gave Walburga and Orion another nasty look.

"I suppose your worthless _son_ is a part of this little Order society too," he said.

Walburga and Orion both froze. The other Death Eaters laughed even louder, knowing that Tom was speaking of Regulus' older brother.

Though, the laughter was not long-lasting for the very next night, Tom received a message that brought the dinner party to an abrupt stop. The patronus, which was apparently able to talk (and Tom largely suspected that this was Dumbledore's doing), was a double message:

_We are grateful for your invitation; however, we do not associate with blood haters and supremacists. Kindly do not bother us again. Yours sincerely, Frank Longbottom, Alice Longbottom, James Potter and Lily Potter—proud members of the Order of the Phoenix_

It was like he had been slapped hard across the face. A large, firing ball of hot white anger was coiling up in his chest, sending waves of fury up and down his body. He had never felt as furious as he did in that moment. The Death Eaters did not find this the least bit funny and were smart enough to remain frozen.

Tom could not believe it. How _dare_ they defy him? Did they not fully understand just who they were dealing with? Did they not comprehend what sorts of magic he was capable of doing? He would have to personally demonstrate his powers to them . . . to_ persuade _them, as he liked to call it.

And so Tom spent the next couple of months fighting…fighting like he had never fought before…rallying up as many as he could and jinxing and blackmailing and torturing. He channeled all his anger into each and every one of the rallies, and produced extraordinary results and countless bodies. The Death Eaters had never seen him so furious and knew better than to try and talk to him about it. Regulus rarely showed up anymore but when he did, he followed every order.

The Death Eaters tried to get to the members of the Order of the Phoenix, but Dumbledore had them well protected. They did manage to kill a couple, but not the most important members. One little man however, personally paid Tom a visit at Nott's mansion one late night in the Spring of 1977. He bowed low to him and waited for permission to speak.

"Peter Pettigrew, sir," he answered when asked to present his name.

"And what are you doing here today, Pettigrew?" said Tom, lazily.

"Well, t-they c-c-c-all m-m-me W-w-w-Wormtail, your majesty," said the little man.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"_They_?"

"The O-order of t-t-the Phoenix," said the man, quickly. "I a-a-am a m-m-member."

Tom sat up and stared at him.

"And what are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I h-h-have c-c-c-come t-to j-join y-y-you, sir," said the man, who looked frightened beyond comprehension.

Tom drew his wand and pointed "Legiliments" at the man. He only glimpsed his mind for a couple of seconds but there was nothing there that was alarming—nothing about Dumbledore planning to send a spy, nothing about trying to get information out of the Death Eaters, nothing about plotting some trick against Lord Voldemort. Tom withdrew from the man's mind and smiled wickedly. He then turned unexpectedly to Avery.

"Well, won't you get our newest member a drink?" he said.

Avery bowed and handed the little man, who looked as relieved as though he were about to wet himself, a tall glass of wine.

"Welcome, Wormtail," said Tom, raising his own glass to the man.

At the party resumed, Regulus came to sit beside Tom and lowered his voice so that only Tom could hear him speak.

"My Lord Voldemort," he said. "That man used to run around Hogwarts with Sirius and Potter and that werewolf that Greyback is always bragging about biting."

"Interesting," said Tom, slowly.

"Are you sure he can be trusted, sir?" said Regulus.

"Oh yes, I am sure," said Tom. "I have read his mind. There is nothing devious there."

Regulus paused.

"Legiliments can only get you so far, my lord," he said, and without waiting for Tom to reply, he stood up and walked over to where the newest member stood.

Tom did not feel too good about the way Regulus had spoken those last few words. Could it be that he was up to something? He wouldn't dare though. . . not after Tom had told him what he was capable of doing to his parents...what he had no problem doing.

Perhaps it was because things had been going so bad lately that he could not stand more bad news. Perhaps it was because he was assured that Dumbledore had not sent this man as a spy or a trick. Tom wasn't exactly sure why he did not just kill Wormtail, but there was no doubt that Wormtail, however useless he may have seem, would be his most loyal follower. And that, right there, was definitely useful.

* * *

**Note: No, I have not forgotten about Severus Snape or Barty Crouch or Barty Crouch Jr. All will come in the next chapter, which will be titled "The Prophecy" and will be updated either tomorrow or the day after. That chapter will be as long as this one, or it might be a bit longer...there is so much to cover. Voldemort was very well connected to a lot of people, I'm afraid, so I'm trying hard to make sure I don't miss anything and that I include all details, like how he taught his Death Eaters to fly. That's why I'm not updating a few chapters a day, because these particular chapters require a lot of research. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the bit of comic relief and weren't too disturbed by the darkness of a few scenes :):)**


	27. The Prophecy

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination**

**Thanks.**

**Also, thank you for 3,500 views! Means a lot! **

**Dedication: Wolfdawn, this one's for you:) No apparent reason, just thank you for sticking by this story and always reviewing, quite comically!**

* * *

_...Perhaps it was because things had been going so bad lately that he could not stand more bad news. Perhaps it was because he was assured that Dumbledore had not sent this man as a spy or a trick. Tom wasn't exactly sure why he did not just kill Wormtail, but there was no doubt that Wormtail, however useless he may have seem, would be his most loyal follower. And that, right there, was definitely useful..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 27: THE PROPHECY**

If Tom thought that 1978 was a bad year, then 1979 was much worse. Things were happening fast now. The Death Eaters were enjoying many battles a day with various members of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore was recruiting more and more people, as was Tom. The newest Death Eaters were several Hogwarts Slytherin Alumni that looked to be promising. But Tom's biggest surprise was when they arrived at Nott's mansion to receive the Dark Mark and he learned that among them was a young man called Avery.

Tom turned round to stare at his childhood friend, who, to his great surprise, did not look ashamed or embarrassed.

"Explain," said Tom simply, as he continued to hold young Avery's stretched out arm with half a Dark Mark carved into it.

"I wanted to surprise you, my lord," said the older Avery. "That's why I didn't tell you that I have a son who just graduated from Hogwarts."

"I…"

"He's been training with me and he's ready to join you now."

Tom looked from Avery to young Avery.

"I'm impressed," he finally said. "I had no idea."

"That was the intention," said Avery, who looked pleased with himself.

As soon as young Avery's arm was ready, he moved along the line and then stepped forward another young man with long black hair.

"Your name?" said Lucius, who stood on Tom's side with a clipboard and a quill.

"Don't recognize me, Lucius?" said the man.

Lucius looked up.

"Severus!" he cried, and gave him a hug.

"Gentlemen," said Tom, a little annoyed.

"My apologies, my lord," said Lucius, quickly, "But Severus here, went to Hogwarts when I was a Prefect. He's brilliant and he'll make you proud. I know it."

"Here's to hoping," said Tom.

"Severus Snape," the young man introduced himself, as Tom rolled up his sleeve and began to draw the Dark Mark.

To Tom's great surprise, the man did not even flinch as the wand carved into his arm. He simply stood there, looking Tom straight in the eye confidently.

"Move along," said Tom, once he was finished with Severus Snape.

The next man stepped forwards and Lucius took his name down as Mulciber. A little while later, Avery moved to Tom's other side and folded his arms.

"Looking good this year," he said as Mulciber moved away and a man called Crabbe stepped forwards.

"So, did you _marry_ as well?" Tom asked Avery without looking at him.

"No," said Avery. "She died shortly after he was born. I only did it so that I could provide you with another servant who would follow in my footsteps after I'm gone."

"Well I hope that won't be anytime soon," said Tom, coolly.

Avery smiled.

Besides Rosier and Rowle, they were the only ones left from the original group of Death Eaters. They were the only ones who remembered how it all began. They were the only ones who knew Lord Voldemort's real name. And they were the only ones he trusted the most. Though, Lucius was coming very close and was already one of Tom's favourite advisors.

"Name?" he asked the next man in line, who looked as though he was possibly still at Hogwarts.

"Barty Crouch," said the boy.

"Stop," said Avery before he stepped forwards. The boy froze. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," said the boy.

"You sure about that?" said Avery, narrowing his eyes.

"Hey, I know you!" cried Bellatrix who moved forwards to where the others stood.

Her voice was accusatory. Crouch turned to look at her.

"You're junior!" she cried. "Crouch's son!"

Crouch nodded.

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked Bellatrix.

"Barty Crouch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Bellatrix clarified.

Tom acted fast. He directed his wand right at Crouch's nose and yelled "Legiliments!" He saw visions of the boy when he was younger, growing up in his Pureblood family. He saw visions of the boy crying in his mother's arms when his father missed yet another Quidditch match. He saw visions of the boy yelling that his father didn't care about him and his father yelling that the Ministry was more important than his teenage drama. He saw visions of the boy waltzing around the Slytherin common room with other prospective Death Eaters and swearing to serve Lord Voldemort for all eternity.

Tom withdrew from Crouch's mind and smiled.

"He's alright," he said and Lucius wrote his name down.

"Thank you, Bella," said Tom. She bowed low.

"Any word yet on the Potters and the Longbottoms?" Tom asked Avery as he administered the mark to an overly eager man called Igor Karkaroff.

"We've sent another message, more threatening-like this time, so they are expected to answer any day now," said Avery.

Tom nodded. He didn't really expect them to reject him again, but with Dumbledore, anything was possible. Still, they would be mighty foolish to defy him a second time. It would only make him all the more determined to slaughter them to bits and pieces.

Walden Macnair was the last to receive his Dark Mark that night, and then the Death Eaters drank to their newest members and toasted to a changed world. As the celebrations ensued, Tom sat in the corner of the room with his least favourite people, Orion and Walburga Black.

"I just couldn't help but notice that he hardly shows up at meetings anymore," Tom was saying to an anxious looking Walburga. "I am genuinely concerned for him."

The Blacks said nothing but continued to stare at Nagini who was hissing at their feet and whispering "I'm hungry" to Tom over and over again. He tried to hide his smile and look startled.

"Is he ill?" he asked the Blacks.

They shook their heads.

"Is he lost?"

They shook their heads again.

"He hasn't left us, has he?" said Tom.

Neither Orion nor Walburga moved or said a word.

"I see," said Tom. "This makes both your sons now, doesn't it?"

"We don't know where he is!" Walburga blurted out. "I swear it, my lord, I swear it on my most prized Black heirlooms, I do not know where he is. He just disappeared without a word. Could have been captured or killed. We just don't know!"

"Enough," said Tom, and he rose to his feet and straightened up his cloak. "Take your family scandals elsewhere."

And, with these his last ever words to her and her husband, he walked away.

The following night, the Blacks returned to Nott's house with a message from the Order of the Phoenix. They read out the bit of parchment which warned Lord Voldemort that if he wouldn't stop his wrongdoing, he would meet his end very soon. The letter also said that, though they were truly honoured, the Potters and the Longbottoms would rather die than join his ranks. Tom was furious. The other Death Eaters tried to comfort him but he was raged. He drew out his wand and fired a string full of various jinxes at the Blacks. They fell to the floor and squirmed in pain. Finally, having already weighed out his patience, they both died.

Silence filled the room.

"S-shall I take them away, m-my lord?" said Nott Jr, nervously.

"No," said Tom. "Nagini hasn't had her dinner yet."

And so the Death Eaters stood and watched in horror as Nagini moved forwards to where Orion and Walburga Black's lifeless forms lay on the floor.

Soon, it became apparent that Regulus was dead. Only Tom however was aware of the circumstances of his death. Nagini had informed him a couple of days later that Regulus had been taken by the inferi at the cave. Tom had most certainly not expected _this_. Regulus had been one of his favourites and now he realised that Regulus had interrogated that no-good house elf for information on what Tom had wanted with him.

"Well, he's dead now so nothing to worry about," Tom said to Nagini as they walked along their cliff under the moonlit sky.

"He was a well-practiced Legiliments," Nagini told him. "That's probably why you didn't see this coming."

"I should dispose of the house elf immediately," said Tom.

"Good luck finding him," laughed Nagini. "It's a suicide mission!"

"Maybe," said Tom, sighing. "Do you know...I wonder how many more of my Death Eaters are practiced Legiliments?"

"Snape," said Nagini. "He was the smartest of the Slytherins."

"And you know this how?"

"I overheard that bloke Pettigrew talking about it," said Nagini. "They hated each other back at Hogwarts but now they are inseparable. Our friend Snape seems to really like the idea of Pettigrew betraying Potter and his lot."

"Mmm," said Tom, chuckling to himself. "Well we'd better go back then. Wormtail will be arriving soon and as I take it, he has information."

They apparated to Malfoy Manor, which was the newly appointed headquarters of Death Eater meetings, seeing as how Nott Jr was not nearly as good a host as his father had been. Besides, the Malfoys were some of Tom's absolute favourites at the moment. They certainly knew how to please him.

Sure enough, when Tom and Nagini arrived and made their way over to the sitting room where all the Death Eaters were gathered, they saw that Wormtail was sitting at the table, with his rolled up sleeve proudly showing his Dark Mark.

"You bring news, I trust?" said Tom, sitting at the head of the table and motioning for Avery to sit beside him.

"My lord," said Wormtail. "The Order m-m-mentioned that H-Horace Slughorn r-retired from h-his t-t-t-teaching post at H-Hogwarts and is now in h-hiding. N-no one knows w-w-where he is. N-n-not even D-Dumbledore."

Tom stared at Wormtail but did not say a word. Unsure of what else to do, Wormtail continued.

"And t-t-the Order does not y-yet know that Augustus R-R-Rookwood is working as a s-spy f-f-for us."

Tom leaned over to Avery.

"Do you remember when you used to stutter like that?"

Avery laughed out loud, as did the rest of the Death Eaters.

"Why did I ever keep you around after that?" said Tom, who also chuckled softly.

"Because I was too brilliant for you to throw away," said Avery.

The Death Eaters laughed some more and even Wormtail joined in, though Tom knew he didn't find the matter funny at all and was rather fearful for his life.

"Thank you, Wormtail," said Tom kindly after the laughter subsided. "You are a good and faithful servant and I honestly do not know what I would do without you."

This caused the Death Eaters to burst into even louder laughter than before and several of them held their stomachs so as not to collapse completely. Tom could not hide his own smile either.

* * *

**ONE YEAR LATER**

* * *

Tom walked along the back gardens of Malfoy Manor, followed closely by his main Death Eater group which now consisted of Avery, Snape, Crouch, Malfoy, Wormtail, Nott, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Rowle, and Rosier. Though Avery, Rowle, and Rosier had been there since the very beginning, Tom's new favourites were, without a doubt, Snape, Crouch, and Malfoy.

"So they have defied me again, have they?" said Tom coolly.

"Yes, my lord," said Malfoy.

"Well," said Tom. "The Longbottoms and the Potters have been given plenty of chances. I want them dead."

"It can't be done!" cried Nott. "Dumbledore has them well protected, sir!"

Tom swore.

"My lord," Snape spoke up next. "My advice is that you focus on the McKinnons. Word has it that they have contact with some of our men and will try to personally find us."

"Hmm," said Tom.

"I know a way to find them," Snape went on. "It would be prudent to attack them and that way we'll be sending the Order a message."

"I like the way you think," said Tom, and he actually smiled at Snape who bowed his head once to him.

At only 20 years old, Snape's career as a Death Eater looked to be very promising. In fact, he reminded Tom a lot of himself when he'd been at that age.

"My lord," said Malfoy, clearing his throat. "I have some news, my lord—some news that I think you will be most pleased to hear and it gives me great honor to present them to you myself."

Tom stopped walking and turned to look at Lucius. He could use some good news.

"Narcissa is with child," said Lucius, proudly.

The other men cheered and clapped him on the back. Tom smiled.

"Well done, Lucius!" he said, and for the first time, he hugged him. The other Death Eaters watched, amazed. Tom had never shown such affection for any of them.

"So Nott's boy will be older than him!" exclaimed Wormtail.

"Yeah, Theodora is expecting him sometime next month," said Nott, shyly.

"Lucky—my kid is not due for another four months," growled Crabbe.

Goyle scoffed.

"At least you have a name for yours," he said. "We still can't decide between Goyle Jr and Goyle Jr Jr."

"How thick are you?!" cried Rosier. "Crabbe's kid's name is Crabbe! Not that hard to come up with."

The others laughed out loud.

"I see 1980 is the year of the babies," said Tom, dully.

The laughter intensified.

"My lord," said Snape, who was always so serious and rarely ever laughed. "Might I join you in tomorrow night's rally? I really think that I am ready."

"I know you are, Severus," said Tom, as the group began to walk again. "But I do not want you to join me for the simple reason that you are too important a follower and I don't want to lose you."

"Being at your side will be the safest place for me," said Snape.

Tom thought long and hard.

"Alright," he finally said. "Wormtail stays then."

"But, m-m-master, I—"

"—should be getting back to the Order now?" said Tom. "Yes, I think that would do. Don't forget, you need to convince the McKinnons to be at tomorrow's rally."

"Y-y-es, m-my Lord Voldemort," said Wormtail, and he quickly disapparated from the garden.

"He is such a worm," said Tom, causing an uproar of laughter from his Death Eaters.

The rally at the end of the year was their best one yet. The shouts and screams were louder than ever and several of the Order members were begging for mercy. Tom had honestly expected the Longbottoms and the Potters to show up, and seeing that neither did certainly upset him. He took his anger out on a petite witch called Dorcas Meadows, who never saw the flash of red light coming and toppled right over as it hit her square in the chest. The Prewett brothers put up a good fight but Tom merely laughed in their faces as he killed them both at once. The rally however came to an abrupt end when Dumbledore arrived. As soon as he saw him, Tom disapparated and was followed closely by his Death Eaters. Rosier had managed to curse Dedalus Diggle just before he left, but the curse backfired and hit Snape as well.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa treated Snape's injured arm while Lucius held his newborn son, Draco, and enthusiastically told him details of the night's events as though it were a bedtime story. Over on the other end of the room, Nott was talking to little Theodore and explaining to him that though his mother was no longer around, she would always be with him. Crabbe and Goyle were holding their sons too. Feeling as though this was no longer a Death Eater meeting, but rather a babysitting party, Tom ordered that all children be taken away and not be present at another meeting unless it was to receive their Dark Mark. The Death Eaters were surprised but obeyed without hesitation. Soon, all was restored back to normal.

Weeks later, Tom tracked down Marlene McKinnon and tortured her for a good two hours until she pleaded and begged him to kill her. He finally obliged and then killed both her parents and all 12 of her brothers and sisters. Snape helped for the most part but it was mostly Tom's doing. He enjoyed the act of killing very much, but the only thing that was more pleasing was watching his victims screech and beg.

But Tom had learned long ago that good things were short-lived.

He had that terrible dream again and, this time, he finally recognized the tall, moustached man. He did not sleep for the next couple of nights as he thought long and hard. There was still so much to take care of, yet he felt as though there was no time for anything anymore. On one ordinary dinner party, Tom made his way over to the corner table where Snape and Crouch sat, playing cards. He joined them and watched the miniature version of the tall, moustached man dealing the cards.

"What?" said Crouch, noticing Tom's glare on him. "Is everything alright, my lord?"

"What is the deal with you and your father?" Tom asked.

Crouch's face became very serious and he looked down at his cards.

"How do you—?"

"Answer the question!" snapped Tom.

"He's a jerk," said Crouch. "Always has been."

"Do you want him out of the equation?" Tom asked.

Crouch looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

"I do, my lord, but I would rather do it myself."

"I understand completely," said Tom. "I once killed _my_ father."

Snape leaned forward to listen.

"I was just a few years younger than both of you," said Tom. "He too, was a jerk—deserved it completely, though I would have killed him even if he was the nicest man on earth."

Snape and Crouch smiled.

"I never liked parents," said Tom, simply.

Snape nodded but said nothing.

"Come on!" said Tom suddenly, and he jumped to his feet and conjured up his travelling cloak which tied itself around him.

"Where to, sir?" said Crouch who also stood up. Snape put away the cards and joined them.

"All of you!" said Tom. "After me!"

In a matter of 5 minutes, the Death Eaters were gathered in Malfoy's lawn, all ready with their travelling cloaks. Tom held out his hand for them all to take. Together, they apparated to the heart of Diagon Alley. Once there, Bellatrix conjured up the Dark Mark and the fighting began. The hundreds of other Death Eaters were summoned to the scene at once.

They ran into every shop and street corner and fired out as many jinxes as they possibly could, hitting everything and everyone. People screamed and ran in terror. Some fought back but the others simply begged for mercy. The Death Eaters laughed in their faces and killed them all. Tom stormed up and down the various alleyways and killed every hiding stranger, disregarding their blood status. Snape and Crouch chased a terrified woman out of the Leaky Cauldron and down to Ollivander's where Tom could hear her shriek in agonizing pain. Though the Death Eaters' laughs overpowered the peoples' cries, Greyback's growling was the loudest of all. He and Nagini worked hard at digging their fangs and teeth into every bit of flesh they could find. It was a beautiful night.

When Diagon Alley was finally as silent as the night, Tom instructed his Death Eaters to follow him. They made their way over to that cliffside he always visited with Nagini, and he lined them up. Everyone looked pleased with their night's work, but Tom was pleased of all.

"You have done well tonight, my friends," he announced, in his cold voice. "I have never been prouder." He paused. "It is time, I think, that we improved our mode of transportation."

The Death Eaters looked round at each other but no one seemed to know what Tom was talking about. Smiling, he said, "Tonight, my friends, you will learn how to fly."

The next rally took place at the Ministry of Magic, where the Death Eaters showed off their new flying skills. The ministry workers shrieked and fought back but nothing was working out well for them. Tom waltzed around, calling "Oh Bartemius Crouch, where are you?!" as Crouch Jr. followed him closely behind. Snape was also laughing as he jinxed several different witches at once. Bellatrix laughed cruelly as she screamed "CRUCIO!" at an old wizard whose screams were drowned by the sounds Greyback was making as he feasted on several ministry workers at once. Nagini sunk her fangs into a young witch and then began working on a tall wizard who was being stubborn and tried to fight back. Tom shot "AVADA KEDAVRA" at him to make things easier for Nagini. She gave him a nasty look before turning around to enjoy her dinner. Soon, the auror office arrived and began dueling with the Death Eaters. The rally lasted for 3 whole hours, at the end of which Lucius' parents and several others were killed.

In August 1981, Tom's entire world collapsed with one conversation. It was a small gathering, just with his main Death Eater group. They discussed their plans on wiping out an entire mudblood neighbourhood and then they went to get drinks. Lucius and his wife went upstairs to check on their son and several of the others went home to check on their children as well. Crouch was off looking for his worthless father and Rosier was sleeping in an armchair in the corner. It was just Tom, Snape, and Wormtail left in the sitting room.

Tom sipped his wine and listened to Nagini as she scolded him for always trying to help her get her food. Suddenly, Snape leaned forwards and looked as serious as ever.

"What's on your mind, Severus?" said Tom, casually.

"I have news, my lord, important news," said Snape in a low voice.

Tom turned his head slowly towards him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It happened last night, my lord," began Snape. "I was in the Hog's Head, spying on Dumbledore like you'd instructed me to. He was interviewing an old hag for a teaching post at Hogwarts. The job was Divination so he obviously thought that she had some extraordinary abilities to foresee the future. I assure you, she looked as crazy as that Hepzibah Smith who you're always telling us about."

Tom nodded slowly.

"Anyway," said Snape. "There was a moment when she made a prophecy and…my lord, it was quite alarming."

"Tell me," said Tom, who sat up suddenly, looking alert.

"The prophecy stated that a child born at the end of July, to parents who have thrice defied the Dark Lord, will rise to defeat you."

"Are you sure that's what it said?" said Tom, quickly.

"Positive," said Snape. "I swear it."

"I believe you," said Tom, putting his wineglass down on the table and crossing his hands together.

"My lord, what does this mean?" said Snape, but Tom was no longer listening.

His mind searched and searched for the meaning of this. Defeat him? _Defeat_ _him? _But who would have the nerve to even try? As far as he knew, Dumbledore had never had any children. Parents who have thrice defied him…he could only think of two sets and they were—

Tom rounded on Wormtail, who was snoozing in his chair.

"Getup, you worthless prat!" he spat and Wormtail jerked awake. "The Potters and the Longbottoms…have they any children?"

"Y-yes, m-m-my lord!" squeaked Wormtail.

"AND YOU DIDN'T THINK THIS WORTH MENTIONING?!" bellowed Tom as he rose to his feet and kicked Wormtail hard.

"I'm s-s-s-s-sorry, m-my l-lord, I—"

"YOU WERE TOLD TO SPY ON THE ORDER, YOU STUPID RAT! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL THIS TIME?!"

"I s-s-swear, my lord, I was—"

"Nevermind, tell me everything about the children."

"F-F-Frank and Alice L-Longbottom have a b-boy called N-N-Neville," began Wormtail, but Tom was too angry to let him finish.

"WHEN WAS HE BORN?!" he shrieked.

"The t-t-thirtieth of J-July, m-my lord," said Wormtail, who was now weeping at Tom's feet.

"Well then, he fits the profile," Tom said to Snape, who looked somewhat relieved. "His parents have defied me three times. I'll have to find and kill him as soon as possible."

"M-m-my lord!" cried Wormtail.

"WHAT?!" Tom spat at him, kicking his face a few times.

"M-my lord!" said Wormtail, who was now covered in blood. "The P-P-Potters have a b-b-boy t-t-too. H-h-he was b-b-born j-just a d-d-ay after L-Longbottom!"

Snape made a weird noise but then coughed. Tom stared at him.

"_Two _boys?" he said. "Did the prophecy say anything about two boys? The Potters have also defied me three times…they also fit the criteria."

"No, my lord, it only mentioned one boy," said Snape immediately.

"Strange," said Tom, kicking Wormtail again, who squirmed. "Very strange."

"Indeed it is," breathed Snape.

Tom sat back in his chair and thought long and hard.

"I'll have to kill both families then," he said, finally.

"I don't think that's good idea, my lord," said Snape, quickly.

"Why not?" said Tom, looking at him with suspicion.

"Well, that'll just anger Dumbledore and he'll come after you!" said Snape.

"I don't care," said Tom, waving his hand.

"My lord, you have achieved so much to date. I don't think it wise to risk it all now just because of some stupid prophecy."

Tom paused.

"Fine then," he finally said. "But I have to find out which boy is a danger to me, haven't I?"

"It's the Longbottom, sir, I know it is," said Snape.

"Why are you so sure?" said Tom.

"He's a pureblood!" said Snape. "It'll send a better message to the Order that you don't care if someone is a mudblood or a pureblood. If they defy you, you kill all without mercy."

"That's a good point," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"I can help you track them down without Dumbledore's interference, if you'd like," offered Snape.

"No, that won't be necessary," said Tom, "Thank you, Severus. You have been most helpful."

Snape bowed his head.

A few hours later, Tom returned to the cliff side with Nagini and took another long walk. He lay in the grass and looked up at the starless sky, with Nagini lounging beside him.

"Are you thinking what I am thinking, Nagini?" he asked the giant snake.

"Aren't I always, sire?" she answered.

Tom smiled.

He did not want to mention anything around Snape, however trustworthy he might be, because Wormtail had been there and he wasn't sure he trusted him just yet. Wormtail was fearful, not loyal. But Tom…Tom had a distinct feeling that it was his destiny to go after the Potters, not the Longbottoms. He felt that it was the right way to go.

"Maybe it's because their kid is a half blood, like you," suggested Nagini.

"That's what I think," admitted Tom. "Why else would I have this urgency to go after their child? Why not go after both?"

"Because their child is of greater danger to you," said Nagini.

"You're right," said Tom. "You're absolutely right."

"Thank you," said Nagini, proudly.

"What I am not understanding," said Tom, "Is _how_ this child is a danger to me. I mean, it knows not of any of my Horcruxes. It is only just a baby!"

"Maybe this is a whole lot bigger than that," said Nagini.

"Maybe," said Tom, who stared up at the sky, thinking.

"I have decided to go after the Potters," Tom announced once he returned to Malfoy Manor.

Snape's colour changed.

"Why?" he asked, in a hoarse voice.

"Because their child is of more danger to me," said Tom, honestly. "Wormtail, I want you to find out where the Potters are. I will kill them immediately. All of them. I dare say, it would be a miracle if they gave up their child just like that."

"Y-y-y-yes, m-my l-lord," said Wormtail, and he was gone.

Snape stared at Tom.

"Something the matter, Severus?" said Tom, who eyed him carefully.

"Of course not, sir," said Snape quickly.

"Good," said Tom, not believing it for one second.

The next night, Wormtail returned with the news that Dumbledore had alerted both the Potters and the Longbottoms of the information that the Prophecy had provided.

"WELL, FIND OUT WHAT THEY PLAN TO DO, WORMTAIL!" spat Tom. "ISN'T THAT WHY YOU'RE A _SPY?!_ HONESTLY, DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU HOW TO DO _EVERYTHING?!_"

Wormtail shook his head violently and disappeared again. Tom sighed heavily and sunk into an armchair.

"Get me a drink," he told Snape who was gone and back with a glass of wine all in less than one minute.

Tom sipped on the drink and closed his eyes. Could things possibly get any more stressful?

"My lord," said Snape.

"What?" said Tom, without opening his eyes.

"I have been appointed Potions master at Hogwarts," said Snape, quickly.

At this, Tom opened one eye and stared at him.

"You what?"

"That's right, sir," said Snape, who looked to be somewhat proud of himself. "It… it didn't take long to convince Dumbledore that I've had a change of heart. But, as you well know, I am a practiced Legiliments and so it was not difficult at all to persuade him of my change of heart."

Tom sat up and beamed at Snape.

"Severus," he said, slowly. "I never told you to do this."

"I know," said Snape. "But I also know that you could use a few spies inside the walls."

There was a moment's silence.

"You don't have to say anything," said Snape, who looked down at the ground but could not suppress his pride.

"You are my most trusted, loyal servant, Severus," said Tom.

Snape looked up at him and half-smiled.

"Sir," he said. "I have…I want to ask you something."

"Go on," said Tom, who was still marvelling at how loyal Snape had turned out to be.

"Sir," said Snape, who seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Sir… might it…might it be possible for you to…to…"

"What is it, Severus?" said Tom, who finally realised that Severus was about to reveal to him what he had been hiding since the moment they first discussed the prophecy.

Snape sighed and closed his eyes.

"Lily Evans," he said.

"Yes," said Tom, not sure where he was getting at.

"Do not kill her, sir," said Snape. "Please, I beg you, do not kill her. Spare her life. Kill Potter and his kid but _please_ do not kill _her_."

Tom was lost for words. This had to have been his greatest surprise yet, and he was really starting to hate surprises. He eyed Snape carefully, wondering how long this had been going on. Snape met his eyes and looked incredibly vulnerable.

"How long have you been in love, Severus?" Tom asked.

"The cruel wraths of love possessed me at an early age, I'm ashamed to say," said Snape. "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it to any of the others. I… I have been a victim of love for all my life, though I never wanted to be."

"I understand," said Tom, surprising him.

"You do?" said Snape.

"Yes, many fools fall down that path," sighed Tom. "Severus, I appreciate your honesty, I do. I am a merciful lord, as you well know by now."

"Of course," said Snape.

"And," continued Tom, "I will consider sparing her life, just for you. I can promise you that much."

"Sir," said Snape, who was obviously not satisfied with this answer. "I can personally help you kill Potter and the child."

"No," said Tom, boldly. "It must be done by me only."

"Of course, sir," said Snape, "But sir, please do not touch her. Please, I beg of you."

"Severus—"

"I'll do anything!"

"You have already done so much!" said Tom. "As I've said, I will consider sparing her life. But, as fools often do, I imagine she will not stand aside and let me kill her husband and child. If the mudblood gives me any trouble, I will have no choice but to dispose of her. You understand of course, don't you, Severus?"

"Y-yes," said Snape, but it looked to be the hardest word he ever had to utter.

"Good man," said Tom, and he patted him once on the back.

The following day, Tom learned from Wormtail that the Potters were in hiding. Obviously Dumbledore had spies or some special ways to track Tom, for now he knew which boy Tom had marked. Nevertheless, Tom did not give up on his search for the boy. He was not about to let some worthless little toddler ruin everything he had built to date, and waiting until the boy was grown would be even more dangerous as Dumbledore would surely get to him and teach him all sorts of magic tricks about _love_.

As October came around the corner, so did Wormtail's news that Dumbledore was in search of Lord Voldemort personally. For some odd reason, this frightened Tom a great deal. He was the most powerful wizard in the entire world, and still to this day, the old man scared the life out of him. He had no idea about any of Tom's Horcruxes and so they were surely safe. But still, Tom hated the idea of Dumbledore searching for him. Panicked, he summoned Lucius Malfoy one late night and thrust his diary Horcrux into his hands.

"Let anything happen to this and I will kill that precious wife of yours and your son, before I kill you," Tom told him.

"I swear on everything I have, it will stay safe with me," Lucius promised.

"Good," said Tom. "Do not repeat this conversation to anyone."

He spoke these words while his wand was pointed directly at Lucius' heart. This did not seem to intimidate Lucius, which was good news. Tom knew he could trust him. He knew that Lucius would not dare disobey him.

Things were starting to fall apart. As every day came and went, more and more Death Eaters were being captured by Barty Crouch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The aurors were working tirelessly and managed to capture many of Tom's most trusted Death Eaters, but not any of his main group just yet. This was the silver lining in the situation, at least.

On October 31st, 1981, Tom awoke early in the morning with a strange feeling in his gut. Nagini was feasting on some creature in the corner of the room. The weather outside was rather stormier than usual. Tom spent most of the day in the garden of Malfoy Manor, pacing back and forth, trying to rid himself of the terrible feeling that he had.

"It is because of all the stress you have endured thus far, my lord," said Nagini, in hopes to calm him.

"Yes," he said, not sure if he was agreeing with this at all.

Something was off. He could feel it. He was never wrong about these things. He was never wrong about anything.

"Reeeeguuuuluuuusss," Nagini sang.

"Thank you for reminding me," muttered Tom.

He suddenly stopped pacing as thunder rumbled in the distance. It was 4 o'clock in the afternoon. The Death Eaters were out doing their usual Death Eater things and would not be back until evening. Tom knelt down beside Nagini and stroked her gently.

"Nagini," he whispered, "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, my lord," she said.

"I need you to go to Crystal Cave and stay there."

"M-my lord?"

"I will come back for you, I promise," he said.

"You want me to go?"

"I want you safe," he said, simply.

"Fine," said the snake. "But you promise to come back for me?"

"I swear it," said Tom, and he meant it.

"Alright," were Nagini's last words to him and then she disappeared.

Feeling slightly more relieved, Tom returned to the house to find Lucius and Narcissa in the sitting room with their son Draco. Narcissa instinctively stood up with the boy and meant to go upstairs but Tom stopped her.

"He can stay," he said.

He was feeling very different today . . . very tolerant of many things.

"Okay," said Narcissa awkwardly, and she sat back down with the boy in her lap.

"Any news from Wormtail, sir?" asked Lucius, throwing his long blond hair back.

"None," said Tom.

"Well, I overheard Snape saying before that Dumbledore had called a special meeting with the Order to discuss security measures around the Potters' hiding place," said Lucius. "Today's the day we'll find out more."

Tom's head was swirling with many thoughts so he contented himself with simply nodding.

They sat in silence for the next hour, as the Death Eaters slowly started to arrive. Finally, Snape and Wormtail walked through the door and Tom immediately got to his feet.

"What are you doing here, Severus?" he asked, surprised.

"I excused myself from Hogwarts for the night," said Snape, "On the grounds of an illness."

"Ah," said Tom, turning to look at Wormtail and raising an eyebrow.

"Godric's Hollow," Wormtail announced, proudly, without a single stutter.

"Godric's Hollow," Tom repeated. "Very clever, Dumbledore. Where better to hide them than the birthplace of the founder of Gryffindor? Hmm…very clever, indeed. But sadly, not clever enough."

"There's more, my lord," said Wormtail, who looked beyond excitement.

"Oh?" said Tom.

"They are protected by the Fidelius Charm," said Wormtail. "And their secret keeper is supposed to be Sirius Black but he just had a talk with me and decided to switch so that I would be their secret keeper."

"You?" laughed Lucius.

"Yes, they seem to think that choosing me would be a bluff and that you, my lord, would never guess that I was the keeper."

"They are right," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"Anyway," said Wormtail, quickly, "The charm was performed just last week, but I only found out today."

"Thank you, Wormtail," said Tom, and he stroked his cheek affectionately. "You have proven your worth to me, at last."

"Thank you, master, thank you!" exclaimed Wormtail in a sort of rat-like squeak.

Tom turned to look at the room of Death Eaters.

"When I return tonight with the boy," he announced, "We will have a celebration. Then, we will bring the boy to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, which Wormtail will help us to enter, and we will show them that we have won. Tonight, we will defeat the Order at last. But tomorrow, we will defeat the world forever!"

The Death Eaters roared with cheers and yelled in victory.

They spent the rest of the evening discussing what they would do once they conquered the entire Wizarding World and the Ministry of Magic itself. Finally, at 11 o'clock, Tom rose to his feet. He had instructed his Death Eaters to distract various Order members and so each Death Eater knew exactly where he/she was to go and what they were to do. They started filing out the door while Tom put on his black travelling cloak.

"My lord," said Snape, who stood right behind him. "You do remember what we discussed two months ago?"

"I do," said Tom. "And you remember my promise?"

"I do," said Snape. "So you will go through with it then?"

Tom turned to look at him and sighed.

"I will try to persuade her to step aside, Severus, I will," he said, and he put a comforting hand on Snape's shoulder. Snape nodded. Tom really did mean it. He didn't want to punish his most loyal, most trusted servant for something that was obviously not his fault. If anything, Snape's love for Evans only made Tom want to punish Dumbledore even more…Dumbledore and his so-called ethical teachings on the power of _love_. _Love _conquers all. _Love_ is the most powerful kind of magic. _Love, love, love_.

Tom looked around at his main group of Death Eaters. Avery, Rosier, Rowle, Crouch, Snape, Malfoy, the Lestranges, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Macnair. They were all smiling at him and looking at him as though he were a deity. He felt like a deity, standing before them.

"I have to go now," he said.

As he walked forward, they parted to allow him to pass. He tapped each one on the back as he passed. This was his shining moment . . . the moment he would finally achieve everything he had been working towards since he found out he was a wizard, all those years ago. Ironically, it had been Dumbledore who had informed him of this. When Tom got to Lucius, he whispered in his ear, "Remember what I told you about the journal."

Lucius nodded in understanding.

"Good luck, my lord," said Macnair when he passed him.

"Luck is for the weak," Tom said to him.

"We shall have a glorious celebration when you return!" Nott exclaimed.

Tom reached the door and then turned round to look at them again.

"You have been my most favourite servants, all of you," he said, proudly, "And when I return later tonight and we take over the world tomorrow, I _will_ reward each and every one of you. I promise this."

They bowed low to him. Pleased, he turned around and walked out of the mansion. He walked a few feet away from the house, then stopped, turned around again, and disapparated.

* * *

Godric's Hollow. A silent village. No one in sight at this time of night. Tom strode slowly along the nearby cemetery and looked up at each house he passed. He kept the hood of his cloak over his head and his hand in his pocket, clenching his wand. He finally found the right house. He knew it was this one because he could see, even from where he was standing, red hair through one of the windows. The woman was holding a baby in her arms…a baby who was crying.

Thunder was rumbling somewhere in the distance and lightning shone every couple of minutes. But no rain. Not a drop. The night was clear, as was the path that Tom had set for himself. He let himself in through the gates and slowly marched up to the front steps of the house. He could hear running from inside. They must have sensed his presence. Why, everyone always sensed his presence, wherever he went. _Good_, he thought. He pulled out his wand and muttered a spell. The door was blasted aside, along with several bricks from the walls. His spell had been so powerful that it knocked out the energy from the lamps and other household appliances, bringing about a certain darkness in the house. Just before everything went pitch black, Tom sighted a man running up the stairs in terror.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

_Like hell you will,_ thought Tom. He walked up the stairs, casually. He finally reached the top landing, where there lay a broken lamp that was still lit, and, before him, stood a man with round glasses and messy hair. He was standing up straight, proud, and confident, and was guarding the doors.

"What are _you_ so proud about?" said Tom, sneering, and with a wave of his wand, he shot a jet of light at the man, hitting him square in the chest.

The man yelled but his yell was drowned by the sound of loud thunder rumbling just above the house.

A moment later, he toppled to the ground and a woman shrieked from within one of the rooms.

"Oops," said Tom, laughing out loud. He stepped over the man and let himself into one of the rooms. There was no one there.

"Hide and seek, eh?" said Tom, in a singsong voice. "My favourite game."

He checked every room until he finally found the right one. He could hear adorable baby cooing from inside. He blasted open the door. Again, the surroundings shattered or smashed against the walls. His spells were more powerful than even he himself had anticipated.

He let himself into the room. The red-haired woman was standing there, shielding what looked like a child's crib.

"Stand aside," Tom ordered, remembering his promise to Snape.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry!" she cried.

"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside now," said Tom, who was growing impatient.

This was just what he had predicted would happen. He was always right about these things.

"Not Harry, please! No, take _me!_ Kill _me_ instead—"

"Move!" cried Tom, pointing his wand at the woman.

"PLEASE, HAVE MERCY! PLEASE, I BEG YOU! PLEASE! PLE—"

His spell hit her as perfectly as it had hit her husband. The mudblood shrieked in terror and then fell to her death instantly, revealing a little version of her husband sitting in the crib. The boy was teary eyed and watched as Tom approached him. So he had killed Lily Evans. Snape would get over it eventually. Right now, there were more important things on his mind. There it was. The child. The child about whom the prophecy had been made. Tom's so-called greatest danger. Tom smiled. This was no match for the Great Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, and most powerful sorcerer in the world.

Smiling, he pointed his wand at the boy and pictured Dumbledore's face when he'd show the boy's body to him. This was the moment he'd been working toward his whole life. This was the climax—the high point of his career. This was it at last.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

It happened very quickly. The flash of green light erupted from his wand like an exploding canon, and just as quickly, drew back. His wand began to vibrate and shake in his hand. Furniture everywhere was flying and thunder rumbled in the distance, accompanied by occasional flashes of lightning.

Pain. Such pain that he had never experienced before. _Great, unbearable,_ _agonizing_ pain filled Tom's entire body. He felt himself shrink. He felt a part of him stretch out and touch the boy. That part was stretching and ripping so fast and so hard Tom did not know what to do so he stopped holding on to it. He felt a numbness in his fingers which then reached his long arms and legs, then his chest, and then his head. His vision was blurred, his hearing blocked, and his sense of touch and smell stopped. He had succumbed to nothingness. And yet, he was still alive. He was still there.

But what had happened? Had it worked? No…

Wait… what had worked? What was supposed to happen? Who was he? Was he a person? Was he a living thing? Where was he?

Distant baby screaming filled his ears, though it was very faint and distant, as though miles and miles away. But he knew he was still in the room with the child. The child. There was a child and there was a room. Thunder. There it was. The familiar thunder rumbling. Now he remembered. He was Lord Voldemort, most powerful wizard in the world, and he had come to Godric's Hollow to murder a child who'd been prophesized to defeat him. He had killed the child's father and then the child's mother. Someone was not going to be too pleased about that…but for some reason, he could not put his finger on the name just yet. He felt like there were large holes or gaps in his memory. Oh, and the child. There had been a child he was supposed to kill. But the child was screaming. The child was crying. It was alive. But how? He had performed the spell numerous times before, if he remembered correctly.

Why hadn't it worked this time?

Thunder rumbled again, scaring him so much that he felt himself disappear. Cold air overtook him, whatever he was. He could not feel or see or touch or smell anymore. He could only hear and think. He seemed to be moving but he did not know how. He would have to find a way to figure out what had happened. He moved along, feeling some of his senses returning. Smell. The smell of damp grass. Was it already raining? He could not tell. Ah. At last. He could smell its whiskers from a distance away. He approached the little beast and lunged himself inside it. The beast squirmed and screeched and meowed and then, it became silent. Tom opened his eyes.

By the looks of it, he was outside. The house, wrecked in rubble, was just in front of him. So, that meant he had not moved far from the scene. But it was best to do that now. He felt the cat's thoughts of confusion and pushed them away. The rain came down hard now. The cat ran down the street. Tom tried to make it apparate but it seemed that his powers had been stripped from him. He could not do anything anymore. What sort of magic was this? What had the mudblood done to him?

No, she had been dead when he approached the boy. He remembered that distinctly. Though, his vision was so blurred now, he wasn't sure what was real and what was not. The only solution he could think of now was to find a Death Eater—any Death Eater—who would restore him back to his body. That is, if he still had a body.

A week had passed. Tom was still not able to get back to Malfoy Manor. He was not able to contact any of his hundreds and hundreds of Death Eaters. He managed to get back to London but it had been a long trip and the cat stopped to rest a lot. Tom was tired too. He wanted nothing more than to sleep for days and days and days. _But you must stay strong_, he told himself over and over again. _You must find out what has happened to the others. _

Screams. He could hear screams. He followed the sounds and ended up in a clearing somewhere he did not recognize. The cat moved forwards and lunged itself under a nearby bench. The rain was dropping down hard now, but not hard enough to drown out the screams. Tom looked around, viciously, his animal instincts more visible now.

The shrieking was louder than ever. Feet belonging to unknown characters were being dragged across the floor. Cackles of laughter and shrieks of loyalty filled the air. Unidentified men shouting that they got a couple of more. Mothers wailing at the deaths of their babies. And blood . . . everywhere.

He looked around helplessly from under the bench. He was so petite, fragile, weak, and helpless. And watching as his loyal Death Eaters were rounded up by aurors was hard enough without having to do it from the body of a cat—and a skeletal cat, at that. Though, the cat was small enough to remain concealed under the bench and so Tom kept its big yellow eyes firmly on Rodolphus and Bellatrix and Rabastan who were wailing on the bundles of ropes that were sinking into their very skins.

"TAKE THEM AWAY!" shouted Barty Crouch.

The Lestranges were picked up and dragged away from the riotous scene. All three of them were now laughing that they would be back one day. Tom tried to look for his wand but it was nowhere to be found. He did not understand what was happening. Where had everything he had worked towards gone to? Where were Avery and Rowle and Rosier when he needed them? And why on earth was he now struggling to survive as a barely…human…thing?

* * *

**Author's note: Is it weird that I cried like a baby when I finished writing this chapter? **

**It's one thing to know about the events at Godric's Hollow that Halloween night. It's one thing to glimpse them a bit from Harry's mind when the Dementors get near. It's one thing to hear Voldemort talk about them. But to write them from his perspective...there are no words.**

**Also, I listened to the Nicholas Hooper and Alexandre Desplat soundtrack of "The Prince's Tale" on repeat, while writing the Godric's Hollow part of this chapter.**

**So much feels. hope you enjoyed it. I'm going to go cry some more and then once I recover, I'll set to work on Chapter 28, which will be titled "Albania." We are officially done with the First Wizarding War. I'm feeling kind of sad about that, I really liked writing it. **

**PLEASE REVIEW, I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS! **


	28. Albania

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the delay, I recently chatted with someone (you know who you are) about Gandalf and ended up watching Fellowship of the Ring today :/ For those of you who know, it's a pretty big time commitment. Anyway, here is the new chapter. I realise the last three have been pretty long so the next few will be shorties for a change. Enjoy and please review! I will update tomorrow...lots. **

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter rights to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks! **

**Dedication: To all my wonderful readers!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 28: ALBANIA**

Darkness. That was the first thing he saw when he awoke. He looked around nervously. His heart was beating awfully fast. He could feel sweat on his forehead and in his paws. The cat's heart was beating so fast that Tom was sure it would burst any second. Strange. This must be a side-effect from his possessing the cat for so long. Tom decided to act fast and jumped into the first creature he saw, letting the skeletal cat gasp its last breath before collapsing to death. Had it really been only two weeks?

The new creature was some sort of a grey squirrel. As it walked along the path in the early morning, Tom wondered if its lifespan was greater than that of the cat's. How long would it be before he had to occupy another creature? And why, _why_ did he have to resort to this at all? There it was again…the thought that had been haunting him ever since that night. There was no running away from it now. _WHY_ had it not worked? _WHAT_ had gone wrong? More importantly, _WHERE_ was everybody when he needed them?

He had spent the last two weeks trying to find out what had happened to his Death Eaters. All he knew so far was that the Lestranges and Karkaroff were sent to Azkaban Prison. He did not know if there had been trials or where everybody else was. He tried to get back to Malfoy Manor but couldn't find the way, for some reason. With all his powers stripped from him, he was finding it hard to remember the minor details of his life. He remembered the big things, oh yes. He remembered each and every one of his many conversations with Albus Dumbledore because during each of them, he'd been nearly frightened to death. He remembered who he was and how influential he'd been in the wizarding world. He remembered his main Death Eater group and a few select individuals outside the group. And his Horcruxes…he remembered his Horcruxes. Boy, was he relieved now that he had ever even bothered making them. They were possibly what had stopped him from dying in the first place.

The squirrel jumped from one spot to another, its thoughts colliding with Tom's own. He had to work extra hard to push the stupid animal's thoughts away. He found that the longer he possessed an animal—any animal—the less human he felt. It was all the more challenging to cling to his human thoughts and not resort to animal instincts.

He moved the squirrel over to sit under another bench in the rainy morning streets of Diagon Alley. It waited there for a while, as the sun began to slowly rise. Soon, witches and wizards were moving from one shop to another, happily exchanging morning greetings and passing around copies of the Daily Prophet. Finally, at long last, one wizard let his copy slip to the ground near the bench. Tom had the squirrel retrieve it with its teeth and then set it down right beneath the bench so that he could take a good look. He froze. The headlines, each as worse as the next, read:

_**THE DARK LORD DEFEATED**_

_**THE WAR IS OVER **_

_**WHERE IS HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED NOW?**_

_**RISE IN AZKABAN INMATE COUNT**_

_**BARTY CROUCH: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW**_

_**MINISTER FUDGE: EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW**_

_**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE: THE LASTEST**_

_**WHO IS THE BOY WHO LIVED?**_

It took a while before Tom managed to flip over to the last page. Finally, he managed it and read the words carefully:

_The Boy Who Lived._

_We have all been clearly plagued by the wraths of this terrible war for 11 years now…some of us for even longer than that. But this last Halloween, all came to a glorious end. Harry James Potter, the one-year-old son of the late James and Lily Potter, managed to survive the tragic events at Godric's Hollow. Unfortunately, no one knows exactly how it happened or why, but there is no denying it: the toddler might have saved the wizarding world forever._

_"It's marvelous!" exclaimed Dorris Crockford. "I was beginning to worry that we were doomed for the rest of eternity, but this powerful young boy might have saved us at last!"_

_Crockford had much more to say on the subject but was quickly sucked into celebrations of victory that took place in Diagon Alley all of last week. Witches and wizards everywhere are celebrating day and night—celebrating the defeat of the dark and powerful He Who Must Not Be Named. _

_It is wonderful, yes. We are all absolutely thrilled. But we are also even more curious—why did this extraordinary young boy survive the night's events? What extraordinary magical powers enabled him to escape the Dark Lord's evil curse? How is it that, for the first time in magical history, the one to overpower the most powerful wizard known to mankind, was only just a baby?_

_The boy was rescued from the home by the giant Rubeus Hagrid, who is employed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as gamekeeper. Together, he and Albus Dumbledore brought the boy to a muggle home where he shall reside with his muggle relatives until he is ready to rejoin the wizarding world. Albus Dumbledore was not available for comment, however an inside source tells us that the boy will most likely attend Hogwarts when he reaches the age of eleven, seeing as how both his mother and father attended the school. _

_There are still so many questions, some of which we may never have the answers for. But there is no denying that Harry Potter, now formally known as the Boy Who Lived, will be a name known to all wizards everywhere, probably for the rest of time._

The grey squirrel spat on the newspaper. Ridiculous. Preposterous. Pathetic. Impossible!

How could this have happened? What had the mudblood done? She had done _something_. She had performed some kind of strange magic—unknown to Tom—that caused him to shrink to this nothingness that he was now. And that boy…what had happened with that boy? Why had Tom felt himself being literally pulled towards that boy, blocking his thinking and breathing? And _why_ was the boy still alive?

"He's gone!" shouted a shabby-looking wizard who was running down the main streets of Diagon Alley. "HE'S GONE AT LAST! THE DARK LORD IS GONE! POOF! HE'S GOOOOOOONE!"

"WOOOHOOOOO!" several others cheered.

Startled, Tom jumped into another cat he'd spotted and made a run for it. Having been reduced to this was bad enough without the whole world finding out. If they ever knew what he had become… he could see the headlines now.

_**THE DARK LORD NO LONGER HUMAN**_

_**THE DARK LORD WEAK AND VULNERABLE**_

_**THE DARK LORD EXPOSED**_

_**EXPOSED, EXPOSED, EXPOSED!**_

He ran as fast as the animal would allow him. And then, he stopped. He'd reached Knockturn Alley wherein he finally saw someone he recognized—Walden Macnair. He was returning some items to Borgin. Pleased, Tom began to approach him.

"I can't help you!" Borgin was saying.

"I'll make you help me!" Macnair growled and he actually pulled out his wand and pointed it at Borgin.

"Ah!" cried Borgin, who waved his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get nasty!"

"Do it now!" snarled Macnair.

Borgin handed him a few galleons and Macnair began to count them.

"So what did happen to him?" said Borgin, conversationally.

"I don't know and don't care," said Macnair, who was still counting his coins. "I just want to get the hell out of here. Fast."

"Right," said Borgin, nodding. "Where is everyone else? Those who weren't taken in, I mean."

"Hiding," shrugged Macnair, "Or pretending they were good all along."

He was obviously pleased with the number of coins because he quickly pulled his hood on and stormed out of the shop. He stopped dead once he saw the cat, and then quite suddenly kicked it hard with his foot.

"Shoo!" he cried. "Go on, get!"

The cat meowed and whined in protest but Macnair did not wait and quickly disapparated from the dark alley. Too shocked by what he had just heard, Tom allowed the cat's mind to overtake for the next couple of hours. The cat wandered around streets looking for food while Tom tried to overcome his shock. Walden Macnair had been one of his main Death Eaters. How could it be that he was not trying to find his master and help him? How could it be that he did not care what had become of the Great Lord Voldemort?

Perhaps Lucius or Crouch or maybe Severus would help him. He knew the Lestranges would if they could for, even as they were being dragged away by aurors, they had laughed and shouted "We'll be back!" or "The Dark Lord will return!" Tom knew he could trust them completely, all three of them. But they were not here to help him now. They could not be. From what he'd gathered in the last two weeks, the Dementors had returned to the Ministry and were now the new guards of Azkaban Prison. Security had tightened there and Tom knew perfectly well that, without him, the Death Eaters had no chance at escaping.

During the next couple of days, Tom jumped from one creature to another and kept an eye out for any new headlines in the newspapers. For a long time, it seemed, all that anyone could talk about was the Dark Lord's defeat and how everything was back to normal. The wizarding world was thrilled to be rid of its deadly war and people were now celebrating day and night, always toasting the same thing: Harry Potter.

Finally, after a few more days, something in the Daily Prophet made Tom freeze again. There was a photograph of a weeping woman who looked a lot like Wormtail. The headline read: "_Order of Merlin, 1st class: Mother is Proud_". He skimmed through the article and sighed heavily. Wormtail had been killed the night that Tom had gone to kill the Potters. According to the article, their friend Sirius Black had gone mental and murdered Wormtail as well as 12 muggle bystanders. All that was left of poor Wormtail was a finger. Black had been sent to Azkaban without a trial, for life imprisonment.

Below that was another short article discussing Lucius Malfoy's already great contributions to the Ministry of Magic. He was doing some extraordinary things apparently and donating a lot of his riches.

_"I am very fond of Mr. Malfoy," said the Minister for Magic. "He has shown excellent hard work and dedication these last two weeks. I will certainly be keeping him around for long."_

_When asked about his association with He Who Must Not Be Named during these last 11 years, Malfoy responded, "I wish to take full responsibility for my actions these last few years but I can't see how one can be genuinely sorry for something that was not their fault to begin with."_

_"The Imperius Curse is powerful enough on its own, but when performed by the most powerful wizard in the world, it is destructive," he added. "We the Malfoys are Purebloods, yes, but we would never try to eliminate those who are not. I speak for my wife and son when I say that our sole concern has and will always be the welfare of the Ministry of Magic."_

_When asked about his take on the imprisonments of his distant relatives, Malfoy responded, "Sissy and I are devastated that the Lestranges have turned out to be genuine supporters of the Dark Lord. We will allow their imprisonments to exemplify to our son what happens when people forget to be good. Ourselves, we no longer have anything to do with them, nor do we have anything to do with any of the others who have been convicted of treason and crime."_

"LIAR!" Tom tried to shout but the cat merely shrieked, and it was a very ugly sound.

Just below this article however, there was a snippet about Barty Crouch taking a holiday as he was devastated for what had happened with his son, who was now behind bars as well. Feeling devastated himself, Tom decided to take a break from reading the Prophet as he did not think he could handle any more bad news. So his Death Eaters were now _betraying_ him. _They_ were turning their backs on _him_ and trying to live their lives as best as they could, without even looking for him or helping him. First Macnair, then the Malfoys. At least it was good to hear that the Lestranges and Crouch had turned out to be loyal until the very end. Poor Wormtail was dead but at least he'd been loyal too. And from what Tom had gathered, Snape remained at Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's orders. Tom decided that he could not blame him for that. When the time would come, he would be grateful that he had a spy on the inside all this time.

Finally, on November 28, Tom decided that he was done with Diagon Alley. He jumped into another cat, having killed off over a dozen in the last month, and set off. The journey was long and tiring. He had to stop several times and had to possess hundreds and hundreds of creatures just to get there. Finally, sometime in December he'd gathered (for it was already starting to snow), he reached his destination: Albania.

He trotted along the snowy forest as a skeletal cat, looking left and right and back to make sure no one was following him. It felt as though it were only yesterday that he'd travelled to those exact woods to retrieve Rowena Ravenclaw's then-lost diadem. But knowing that it was safe in the Room of Requirement all this time was the most comforting thought he'd had in a month. Now, all was left was to wait. Wait for what, he did not know yet. He hoped that one of these days, preferably sometime soon, one of the hundreds of followers he'd gathered would show up and help him restore his powers. Then, he would be able to finish where he'd started. But first, oh yes, the very first thing that he would do is kill that filthy half blood. He would destroy him—rip him to pieces—tear him for all that he is worth. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The boy who stopped the Dark Lord.

He would destroy him and let the world know that no one, especially not some baby, could truly stop Lord Voldemort.

* * *

**Poor Tommy. What has he been reduced to? **

**Anyway readers, I'd like to hear from you! Tell me, who is your favourite Death Eater?**


	29. Quirrell's Helping Hand

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks! **

* * *

_...He would destroy him and let the world know that no one, especially not some baby, could truly stop Lord Voldemort..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 29: QUIRRELL'S HELPING HAND**

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into years. Summer after summer, leaves changing and snow falling and melting. Tom waited. He waited as a cat, as a squirrel, as a rabbit, as a snake, as a bird, and even as a groundhog. He waited in the trees, by the lake, in piles of leaves, and under blankets of snow. He waited day and night, rarely ever sleeping, however weak he was. But no matter how long he waited, no matter how he waited, no one turned up. Not a single one of the fierce hundreds that enjoyed his welcome and his protection. It was as though he had never existed.

He was weak, fragile, and most definitely alone. There was nothing for him to do except for sleep, eat, and sleep again. Every day that passed him was another day without human contact. He was beginning to feel like an animal himself. And so, having nothing else to do, he was forced to think about one thing and one thing only: Harry Potter.

He wondered, day and night, what the boy was doing. He wondered what the boy was like. He wondered where the boy lived, where he ate, and where he slept. He wondered whether or not the boy knew about him or about his own sorcery. Had Dumbledore already gotten to the boy? Had he taught him all sorts of rubbish about love? Was the boy even aware that he was famous? Was he proud of what he had done? Was he aware that, in just one moment, he had destroyed 45 years' worth of hard work?

Tom wandered the lonely woods for most of the time, thinking back to his childhood. He thought of his wasted days in that worthless orphanage with the old hag, Mrs. Cole. He thought of Billy and Dennis and Amy and how they would laugh if they saw what he had succumbed to. He thought of the first time he met Dumbledore and how, even then, he knew to stay away from him. He thought of all those days at Hogwarts, those meetings in the Trophy Room with the first Death Eaters—his friends. He stopped. It was too painful thinking of them…thinking of Avery and Rowle and Rosier; friends who had always claimed to be his most trusted, most loyal servants. Well, where were they now? Either hiding or pretending they had been cursed all along…so much for loyal servants.

Tom was angry. He felt humiliated. He felt broken and weak and vulnerable. Had he trusted his followers too much? Is that what this was about? Should he have been harsher with them? More strict? Were they not scared enough of him? Did they honestly believe that, when he would eventually return he would not seek them out and punish them for all that they were worth? And Dumbledore…did he honestly believe that Tom would let all this slide? That the boy would be safe in some muggle suburbs?

Suddenly, very quite suddenly, a twig snapped somewhere. Tom spun around. He did not currently possess any animal. It had been raining hard for several days now and he had not been able to spot a single living thing in the large forest. Whoever it was, they would see Tom exactly as how he looked—a filthy, weak, fragile little thing. The man began to approach him. He had a hungry look in his eyes. Was he a wizard or a muggle? Tom could not tell. He felt too weak to move away and his powers had been stripped from him completely, so he waited patiently by the tree. Finally, the man reached him and bent down, eyeing him carefully.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Each eyed the other with suspicion and confusion. Finally, something in the man's eyes changed. He was no longer hungry or suspicious. He looked proud and triumphed. He bowed his head low and could not suppress a little laugh.

"M-my lord!" he said in an oddly excited, hoarse voice.

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. So it was a wizard. But he had never seen him before. How did he find him? How did he know or recognize him? Tom barely looked like his self anymore.

"My l-l-l-l-lord!" said the man again, raising his head to look at Tom. "How l-l-l-l-long it's been! How l-l-l-l-long I've been s-s-s-searching for you! Searching the d-d-d-depths of the forests and the most s-s-s-secluded caves and—"

"Caves?" said Tom.

The man nodded eagerly.

"What caves?" said Tom.

"All sorts!" exclaimed the man, who was now openly beaming. "How so very h-h-h-h-h-happy I am to have f-f-f-f-f-found you, sir!"

"Who are you?" said Tom, who was still narrowing his eyes at the man.

"Oh, of course, of course!" cried the man, and he bowed his head low again. "How very r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rude of me—I am Q-Q-Q-Quirinus Quirrell, h-h-h-half blood-d-d."

"What do you want with me, _half-blood_?" said Tom.

"I have c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-come from a l-l-l-l-long way t-to help you, s-sir!" said the wizard. "I have c-c-c-come to asssssssist y-you!"

"Assist me," repeated Tom.

"That's right, sir!" said the wizard. "If you'll allow m-m-m-me, of course."

"I do not need assistance."

Tom did not know exactly why he had said it. He had, after all, been waiting a long time—how long, he did not know—for one of his Death Eaters to show up. But time had weakened him and he had crumbled into nearly nothingness. He could not see how he would be able to ever rise to his powers again. All he could see was Dumbledore, laughing in his office with Potter.

"S-s-s-s-s-sir," said the man, who did obviously not understand Tom. "I c-c-c-could h-help y-you get b-b-b-b-back."

"What year is it?" Tom asked him, absentmindedly.

"1991," said the man. "It is J-J-J-J-J-July, m-m-my l-l-l-l-l-l-lord."

Tom froze.

_Ten _whole years had passed! _Ten_ years he had been waiting! _Ten_ years and _zero_ Death Eaters! How could this be?

"Where do you come from?" Tom asked as he began to move along the leaves.

"F-f-f-from Hogwarts, sir!" cried the man, excitedly. "I am a t-t-teacher there—well, I w-w-w-was a t-t-teacher but t-t-t-then I went on t-t-t-temporary l-l-l-l-l-l-leave, j-j-just to f-f-find you!"

Tom drowned out the rest of the man's talking, for his thoughts were now elsewhere. Hogwarts. The man was a teacher at Hogwarts. And ten years had passed since Tom lost everything. This meant that Harry Potter was now going to be starting his first year at Hogwarts.

"Is Albus Dumbledore still headmaster?" Tom asked, coolly, trying to suppress his excitement.

"W-w-why, y-y-yes sir, h-h-h-he's been headm-m-m-master for a long t-t-t-t-time now."

"Yes, I know that," said Tom. He turned to look at the man and frowned. "Quirrell, you…you don't sound too good."

"S-s-s-sir?" said the man.

"Quirrell, who bullied you when you were a child?" The man gulped loudly. "Who is the reason for your stuttering? What is the reason for your lack of ambition?"

"All of them," said Quirrell in a low voice a moment later.

He sat on the pile of leaves and, to Tom's horror, began to cry. Tom however, was patient. He knew that he would have to be, if he was going to get where he needed to get with this man.

"Come now, there is nothing to fret over," he repeated over and over again as the man beside him sobbed like a child.

"I'm s-s-s-sorry," cried Quirrell. "I d-don't mean to be a b-b-b-bother, it's j-j-just that my whole l-l-l-l-l-life I've been t-t-t-t-tormented for the st-t-t-t-t-t-t-tuttering, and I've just h-h-h-ad enough!"

"I understand completely, Quirrell," said Tom, lazily. "But you don't have to be tormented anymore."

"I d-d-d-d-don't?"

"No, of course not!" cried Tom. "Do you think all great wizards were born great? We all started out just like you. Do you think that in my own school days, I was not bullied and tormented?"

"From what I h-h-h-h-h-heard, n-n-n-n-n-no, s-s-s-ir."

"Well, I was," lied Tom. "I was picked on and laughed at for my second-hand books and robes. That is why I didn't have many friends. I spent most of my days studying and ended up being at the top of every class, with a gleaming prefect's badge and Head Boy title."

"Y-y-y-yes, I know that!" said Quirrell, who was now excited again. "I've learned everyt-t-t-t-thing I c-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-could about y-y-y-you, s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sir!"

Tom's thoughts bounced back to Harry Potter. How would he get his hands on him? If this man could just get him back to Hogwarts...but there was also Dumbledore to deal with. Dumbledore was clever. He would surely provide ultimate protection for the boy. He would surely carry him around on his sleeve for fear that Tom would try to do something to him. He would have to think up a clever way to return. He would be able to return, looking like this.

"Well," said Tom, in a comforting voice, "Then you'll know that I am a forgiving and tolerant and reasonable lord, and I will be glad to help you out if you will, as you say you have come all this way to do so, help me out in return."

"Of c-c-c-c-c-course, s-s-s-sir!" cried Quirrell, who now jumped to his feet. "A-a-a-a-anything, s-s-s-sir!"

Maybe restoring his powers first, thought Tom. Maybe that would be a wise place to begin. But how? How could he try to come up with a solution to a problem he did not yet fully understand? If he did not know what exactly had happened to him, even after ten whole years, then how was he supposed to find a way to restore his body or his powers?

"Good," said Tom, smiling slightly. "Now, you say you have come from Hogwarts?"

"Y-y-y-es," said Quirrell.

"I should wish for you to take me back with you when you return," said Tom, simply.

"Of c-c-c-c-course, s-s-s-sir," said Quirrell.

"And in return for this little favour," began Tom, "I will rid you of your stuttering. Though—" he added as Quirrell nearly hopped with excitement, "You will have to keep up a fake stutter so as not to gain suspicion from Dumbledore and your fellow colleagues."

"I underst-t-t-t-t-tand, s-s-s-sir," cried Quirrell. "A-a-a-a-absolutely, sir!"

"Good," said Tom. "Come now, it's July you say, yes?"

Quirrell nodded.

"Then we have lots of work to do."


	30. The Philosopher's Stone

**Author's Note: I'm afraid I can't update anymore right now because my fingers are literally cramping up from all the typing. However, if they are better in a couple of hours, I will sit down to write some more. The next chapter will be very fast to write as it is the entire events of the underground chamber with Tom's first meeting with Harry Potter. I will try to lengthen their conversation some more. Anyway, enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_"...Good," said Tom. "Come now, it's July you say, yes?"_

_Quirrell nodded._

_"Then we have lots of work to do..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 30: THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE**

For the rest of the summer, Tom fed Quirrell all sorts of stories about what he could do, what they could do together, and what Quirrell would become after it was all done. Quirrell listened eagerly and eventually stopped stuttering as much. Tom took this to mean that he had officially gained Quirrell's trust and that Quirrell believed in him and in his temporarily-lost powers.

As he was not yet ready to leave the forest, looking like this, he instructed Quirrell to do a little bit of research whenever he left him. Quirrell always came back with food and Tom would sit and eat while he listened to Quirrell recount what he had learned. He wanted him studying as much as possible, studying ways to retrieve his powers—to restore him back to life.

Finally, at the very end of July (coincidentally, on Harry Potter's 11th birthday), Quirrell returned with good news at last.

"It is c-c-c-called the Philosopher's S-s-stone. I r-r-r-read about it-t-t-t in this v-v-v-very old, dusty b-b-boook."

"Go on," said Tom.

"It was c-c-created by D-d-d-dumbledore's alchemy p-p-p-partner, s-s-sir, Nicholas F-f-f-flamel."

"WHAT DOES THE STONE DO?!" barked Tom, who was growing very impatient, and had no time for background histories.

Quirrell jumped up in fright and his stutter became worse.

"I'm sorry," said Tom, quickly. "Come back here."

Hesitant, Quirrell sat back down.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," Tom invented wildly, "You have to understand, I have been banished for 10 years now and have been forced to survive like this," he gestured to himself. "Don't take any offense, I am only just very eager for something better to happen for me."

"I u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-understand, s-s-s-s-s-s-sir," said Quirrell, with a small smile.

"So, tell me," said Tom, "What does this stone that you speak of do exactly?"

"It c-c-c-c-can transform any m-m-m-m-metal into pure g-g-g-g-g-gold."

"And what can it do for _me_?" said Tom, who was growing bored with this conversation.

Though, admittedly, he was still grateful to have some human contact after living so long without it.

"It is s-s-s-s-said to p-p-p-produce the Elixir of L-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l"

"Life," finished Tom.

"Y-y-y-yes," said Quirrell, nervously. "M-m-m-m-master, c-c-could you p-p-p-p-please rid me of m-m-m-my sttutttttter already?"

"All in good time," Tom promised. "Now, about this stone?"

"Ah, y-y-y-yes," said Quirrell, quickly. "Well, the Elixir l-l-l-l-l-lengthens the d-d-drinker's lifespan, m-m-m-m-my lord."

"Does it now?" said Tom, thoughtfully.

"Y-y-y-yes," said Quirrell.

"One of history's finest creations," said Tom. He paused, then looked at Quirrell seriously. "Where is it, the stone?"

"Well, I've b-b-b-b-been s-s-s-s-spying like you've t-t-t-t-told me to, s-s-s-s-sir,"

"And?"

"And D-d-d-d-d-dumbledore only just recently p-p-p-p-p-placed it in Gringotts B-b-b-b-ank!"

"Which vault, do you know?"

"Of c-c-c-c-course, m-m-m-my l-l-l-l-l-l-l"

"Yeah, yeah," said Tom, who was growing impatient again but struggled to keep his voice. "Good work, Quirrell. Very well done."

"T-t-t-t-t-thank you, m-m-m-m-master," said Quirrell, happily.

Tom stayed quiet for a long time. He knew what had to be done next, but the question was: would it work? Would Dumbledore perhaps see it coming and be prepared ahead of time? Tom would have to act carefully. Better yet, Quirrell would have to act carefully. Tom would be waiting for him here in the forest the entire time. And then, afterwards, when the deed was done, he would rise again and finish where he'd left off.

"Quirrell," he finally said. The man looked at him hopefully. "Get your cloak. You have a long journey ahead of you."

* * *

What was taking him so long? He was a wizard, after all, and was capable of apparition, wasn't he? Was he not learned in the magical arts? Was he not going to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year? Tom did not bother telling him that he had cursed the job a long time ago and that Quirrell would not last the year. Tom thought about it long and hard and decided that, when the process was complete, Quirrell would probably be dead. Such a pity.

Tom laughed out loud and then stopped just as quickly. Nagini would have laughed at that little joke. Oh, how he missed her. And his Horcruxes. Were they too, safe? The diadem was, for sure. The locket was safe too. Kreacher the elf had tested all the protective enchantments for him and sure enough, they were tight. No one knew about the ring and the cup was safe in Bellatrix's vault. But the diary…it was in the hands of that traitor, Malfoy. Would he have the nerve to try and do something to it? Tom really wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"Finally!" cried Tom once he'd spotted Quirrell. Quirrell was slowly walking through the woods towards him, his head bent down low.

"Well?" said Tom once Quirrell had reached him. "How did it go? Did you get the stone? Give it here, let me see it. I dare say it will take us a while to figure out how to work it, but it'll be worth it in the end."

"M-m-my lord," said Quirrell in barely more than a whisper.

Tom stared at him.

"You didn't get the stone, did you? DID YOU?"

Quirrell shut his eyes tight and shook his head. He looked like he was in pain. Physically.

"What happened?" said Tom, in a very low voice.

Quirrell did not speak for a long time. The wind howled through the trees and Tom could hear distant animals running.

"WELL?!" he barked.

"Dumbledore," said Quirrell.

It was the most anger Tom had felt since that Halloween night, all those years ago. He was furious. He was raged. He was ready to rip Quirrell bit by bit. But he knew he couldn't do that just yet. As much as he hated having to admit it, he knew that he still needed him. But in his rage, Tom did something he had not expected of himself. He forced himself into Quirrell. Quirrell shrieked and cried out in pain. He fell to the ground and trembled and squirmed. Finally, he stopped moving.

"Now, I shall keep a better eye on you," declared Tom.

"Y-y-yes, master," whispered Quirrell.

* * *

Hogwarts had not changed in the slightest, though for Tom, everything was different now. He was a less tolerant lord—less forgiving, and angrier than ever. Seeing Dumbledore again did not help this. He still made Tom fearful, even to this day—even after everything that they had been through. Still, Tom could not deny that it was good to be back at Hogwarts.

He had gotten rid of Quirrell's stuttering just the week before they returned to Hogwarts. Living on the other side of his head was certainly less comfortable than existing as whatever he was now, but it did allow him to see everything inside the castle, even with Quirrell's new turban wrapped tightly around him, covering him completely.

"Wherever did you get it, Quirinus?" asked the tall witch called Professor McGonagall.

"I r-r-r-r-r-received it from an Af-f-f-f-frican P-p-prince, Minerva," replied Quirrell, who was not enjoying having to fake the stutter. "I-i-i-i-it was a compens-s-s-s-s-ation for my h-h-h-h-help dispo-s-s-s-sing of a z-z-z-z-z-zombie."

"My," said McGonagall, who looked to be very interested in the story Quirrell was inventing. "Well, people are saying you also encountered vampires in that forest? And had a bit of trouble with a nasty hag… is this true?"

"W-w-w-w-w—well, you c-c-can't go believing everything you h-h-h-h-h-hear, can you, M-m-m-m-m-Minerva?"

"I suppose not," said McGonagall, who did not look pleased with this answer.

"Very good," said Tom once they were alone again. "You're learning quickly."

"You're too kind, my lord," said Quirrell as they walked along the corridor, passing by the Bloody Baron who huffed at the sight of Quirrell and flew right through him for the fun of it.

He disappeared at the end of the hall, though they could still hear his cackling.

"I never liked him," said Tom, absentmindedly.

At long last, September 1st arrived and in came a wave of new students. Tom knew exactly what this meant and had Quirrell wait in the Great Hall with the other professors, so he could get a good look. Quirrell seated himself next to a man with long black hair and folded his hands on the table nervously.

"Good summer, Quirrell?" said the cold voice Tom recognized at once.

"Y-y-y-yes, thank you, S-s-s-s-severus," replied Quirrell.

"Your stutter seems to have gotten worse," said Snape. Tom tried very hard to suppress his excitement, but hearing the voice of one of his most trusted Death Eaters, after so long, was like music to his ears.

"Did you really battle a vampire?" said Snape.

"W-w-w-w-well, you can't go b-b-b-b-believing everything you h-h-h-h-hear, c-c-c-can you, S-s-s-s-severus?"

"Mhm," said Snape, who sounded most suspicious.

"Do better than that, you fool!" Tom hissed into Quirrell's ears. Quirrell coughed loudly.

It seemed to take a while for the first years to arrive, but finally, Professor McGonagall opened the doors and led them through the Great Hall. Tom listened carefully as she instructed them to line up for the Sorting Ceremony.

"Let me see him!" Tom hissed. "I have to see him!"

Obliging, Quirrell turned round to talk to Severus, his turban now facing the crowd. Tom squinted through the purple until he caught sight of some glittering candles and smiling students sitting at the four familiar house tables. He drowned out Quirrell's conversation with Snape completely and focused on trying to find the boy. Where was he? He most certainly would have come, by now.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall finally called.

There he was. The little boy stepped forwards nervously. He looked just like his father…the same messy black hair and round glasses . . . and a scar. There was a scar on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt…it looked to be in the exact same spot Tom had pointed his wand that night, all those years ago. This was the mark he had left from his curse which had quite tragically rebounded upon himself.

The boy sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. Tom could not take it any longer. He had to get his hands on him.

"DO IT!" he hissed at Quirrell. "DO IT NOW! KILL HIM!"

But Quirrell did not respond and merely continued to talk to Snape.

Tom knew he was right…he knew that it would be most unwise to attack the boy now, in the middle of the ceremony, right in front of Dumbledore. Oh, but he had to. He needed to get his hands on him. He was yearning to.

"GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the hat, which did not surprise Tom at all.

The Great Hall roared and cheered, deafening everyone. Soon, the feast began and conversations began to overlap one another. Quirrell had stopped talking to Snape and was now slicing his food. Tom was losing his patience and knew he would have to work twice as hard at keeping his cool if he wanted to get anywhere.

"Ask him about the stone!" he hissed into Quirrell's ears. "Severus is my most trusted, most loyal servant. He will help you out!"

"Say," said Quirrell, conversationally, "Dumbledore informed me earlier that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to all staff and students."

"Yes," said Snape, slowly.

"Why is that, do you know?"

"How thick are you?" cried Snape. "It's because of the stone, of course!"

"The stone?!" gasped Quirrell. Snape seemed to have noticed this because he said, "What do _you_ know about the stone, Quirrell?"

"THE STUTTER!" Tom hissed into Quirrell's ears.

"N-n-n-n-n-n-nothing!" Quirrell said quickly to Snape.

"You seem to have lost your stutter there for a moment, Quirrell," said Snape, suspiciously.

"It c-c-c-c-c-comes and g-g-g-g-goes, S-s-s-s-Severus," said Quirrell, quickly.

"That's got to be a bitch," said Snape.

Quirrell laughed nervously and proceeded to eat. Even Tom laughed a bit. He was glad to hear that Severus had not changed one bit. A little while into the feast, he started up another conversation with Snape, trying to cover up for his little mistake. While his head was turned, Tom managed to get another good look at Harry Potter. And then, quite unexpectedly, the boy met his eyes. His hand flew to his forehead and he winced. Tom stared. What had just happened? He read the boy's lips as they said, "Nothing, I'm fine," to the red-haired boy sitting next to him. But Tom knew better than that.

The boy's scar had just hurt him. That was very strange…most peculiar. Tom had spent nearly all his life reading and studying everything there was to know about magic. He had gone further than any other wizard in wizarding history. And yet, still to this day, there were things that surprised even him, the Great Lord Voldemort. How peculiar.

All throughout the next month, Quirrell tried (on Tom's orders) to get into that room on the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side without being noticed by anyone. But wherever Quirrell went, Snape was just behind him. It was most frustrating.

"He is just doing his job," Tom told Quirrell countless of times. "Dumbledore thinks that Severus works for him. Severus has to make his cover convincing, doesn't he?"

"I still don't trust him," muttered Quirrell.

"_Your_ job is not to trust him, Quirrell," Tom reminded him.

"Yes, sir," said Quirrell.

Quirrell spent his mornings and afternoons teaching classes, his evenings trying to get into that room, and his nights hunting unicorns in the Forbidden Forest and letting Tom feast on their blood. Tom had read about unicorn blood back in his Hogwarts years and sure enough, it fueled him now and gave him a little more energy. Still, he hated having to resort to living like this. He missed having his full-grown, snakelike body. He missed Nagini. He missed his life and he wanted it back. And Harry Potter would surely pay for it sometime soon.

"Don't let the boy touch you!" Tom reminded Quirrell over and over again as there were a few close incidents in class.

"What'll happen if he does?" Quirrell asked when they were alone.

"I do not know for sure but it is dangerous to allow him to touch you," replied Tom. "The boy is protected by some extraordinary magic. It'll be dangerous for us."

Soon, it was Halloween—the anniversary of Lord Voldemort's defeat. Luckily, Tom had had a brilliant idea overnight and so he fed it to Quirrell just as soon as he awoke. Quirrell did not seem to like the plan but nonetheless, he went through with it, on Tom's orders. As the rest of the school feasted in the Great Hall which was lit by hundreds of pumpkins, Quirrell diverted a large mountain troll and helped him to enter the castle. The troll was very stupid but it would do the trick. Then, putting on his best acting skills, Quirrell stormed into the Great Hall.

"TROOOOOLLLLLLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" he shrieked. Tom could not help but laugh beneath the turban. "TROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

Professor Dumbledore jumped to his feet and stared at him, as did the rest of the Great Hall.

"Thought you ought to know," Quirrell added, before he collapsed to the ground, feigning unconsciousness.

Lightning and thunder struck and the next minute, the students were shrieking with terror and pushing and shoving each other to get out.

"SIIIIIIIIIIILEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" called Dumbledore. The Great Hall froze. Tom could see students standing above him, all of them looking frightened. "Everyone would please not panic. Now, prefects will please escort students back to their houses. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons."

Quirrell waited until most of the teachers were gone and then jumped to his feet and followed the students out. He raced up the stairs, climbing three at time. He didn't know how much time the troll would grant him, so he ran as fast as he could.

"FASTER!" Tom hissed into his ears, so Quirrell obeyed.

Finally, he reached the third-floor corridor and then quite as suddenly, froze.

"Well, well, well," said Severus Snape. "What brings you here, Quirrell?"

"I…I…I…"

"Ask him what he's doing here!" Tom hissed.

"W-w-w-w-what are y-y-y-you doing here, S-s-s-severus?"

"I might ask you the same question, Quirrell," said Snape. "The students are in their houses. The teachers are out, trying to deal with the troll. What brings you here? Most peculiar, don't you think?"

"I….I…..well, I…. uh, I…."

"If I were you," said Snape, "I would turn around and walk away right now."

"Y-y-y-yes, S-s-s-s-s-s-severus," said Quirrell, and he slowly turned around and began to walk away, still feeling Snape's eyes on him.

"He was only just doing his job!" Tom repeated for the thousandth time, as Quirrell walked along the Dark Forest, looking for unicorns.

"I don't care what you say, I'm telling you he is on Dumbledore's side!" Quirrell muttered.

"DID YOU FORGET WHO YOU'RE TALKING TO?!" barked Tom, causing Quirrell to gasp with shock. "DID YOU FORGET WHO IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF YOU? DID YOU FORGET WHAT I COULD DO TO YOU IN AN INSTANT? I DON'T NEED YOU THAT MUCH, QUIRRELL, I COULD EASILY DISPOSE OF YOU. _EASILY!_"

"My apologies, m-my lord!" cried Quirrell. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that!"

"Just get me the stone and I won't kill you," promised Tom.

"Y-yes, master," said Quirrell.

The next couple of months flew on by. Each day was the same as the last. Quirrell taught his classes, ate in the Great Hall with the other teachers, carefully avoided Snape and Dumbledore, hunted unicorns in the night, and tried hard to think up a new plan to get to the stone. But as the months went by, he still came up with nothing. Soon, it was the first Quidditch match of the season—Gryffindor versus Slytherin. And Tom, having grown tired of seeing the Potter boy walking around the castle every single day, decided to take action at last. He possessed Quirrell's mind beyond comprehension that morning, so that Quirrell's thoughts were blocked completely with Tom's own. Then, he followed the rest of the school out into the stadiums, reciting the spell he'd once read.

As soon as the Quidditch match began, he started working. It took a while for the charm to work as Tom was still out of practice. But soon enough, it started to show and Harry Potter's broom began to react. He swirled and swirled in the air, trying hard to hold onto that pathetic little broomstick.

"Keep eye contact!" Tom instructed Quirrell and he did so. "Don't let him live. Kill him—kill him now!"

It wasn't working. There was a barrier—something blocking the spell. Tom could feel it. He could almost hear it—he could almost hear the counter-jinx working. What on earth was happening?

"It's Snape!" hissed Quirrell as he slowly began to return to his self. "I told you, I told you! He's muttering a counter jinx! He's trying to save the boy...hmph!"

Quirrell had just been shoved by someone and he stumbled in his seat, having already broken eye contact with the boy.

"He's doing it because Dumbledore probably instructed him to!" hissed Tom. "You are too predictable; I bet Dumbledore can see right through you!"

The boy managed to get back on his broomstick and continue on with the game. Tom sighed heavily. At this rate that they were going, he'd have preferred that Wormtail himself returned, and not this pathetic, useless old—

"I can understand everything you're thinking, master!" muttered Quirrell. "We're sharing the same head, remember?"

"Then, for Pete's sake, show me that you are not wasting my time!" hissed Tom.

Things did not brighten up by Christmastime. Tom told Quirrell to try the stone again once the students went away for the holidays. The castle was almost empty and so Quirrell took advantage of the opportunity on Christmas Eve in the dead of night. He just about managed to get past the library doors when suddenly, out of nowhere, came Severus Snape. He pinned Quirrell hard against the wall and stared at him in the darkness.

"S-s-s-severus, I...I..." stuttered Quirrell.

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," muttered Snape, in a low voice.

"I...w-w-w-what do you m-m-mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

There was a low muffling sound somewhere nearby. Snape turned around furiously, looking for the source of it. A moment later, he turned back to Quirrell and pointed a threatening finger at him.

"We'll have another little chat soon," he declared, "once you've had time to decide where your loyalties lie."

"Ah, professors!" cried Filch, who'd just reached them. "I found this in the Restricted Section. It's still hot. That means there's a student out of bed!"

Quirrell followed the professors into the library and they began to search for the one who had carried the lamp. After about an hour, they decided that whoever it was had gone back to bed and so they bid good night to each other. Just before departing, Quirrell spotted Snape giving him a cold look. He nodded fearfully and retreated to his room.

"He suspects me!" he cried as he took off his turban.

"You're too obvious, that's why!" hissed Tom. "Severus Snape is a very clever man, _of course_ he'd suspect you!"

The next big thing occurred a few months later. Tom and Quirrell were in the woods hunting one night, when suddenly someone appeared…someone whom Tom had been urging to meet. He did not understand what the boy was doing here (or how Dumbledore could have let him wander on his own in the night), but he did not waste his time trying to figure it out. He rose to Quirrell's feet and began to slowly approach the boy, keeping his black hood over his head. The boy looked startled and frightened. He tried to run but he tripped over a few twigs and lay there, staring up at Tom. Just as Tom was about to reach for the boy, a centaur jumped up from behind one of the trees and scratched his face. Trying hard not to yell out, Tom and Quirrell vanished from the scene.

It was the closest Tom had ever gotten to Harry Potter since that night, all those years ago. And it felt so good, standing so close to him. He wanted to do it again, but knew it would be foolish to assume that this would happen anytime soon. So, he spent the rest of the year hoping for the stone to just turn up, knowing that Quirrell was too useless to actually manage to get his hands on it.

However, on the 4th of June, something extraordinary happened. Tom was too weak and tired to pay too much attention to how he'd managed it, but sure enough, Quirrell got into that room at last. He went past all the protective enchantments that Dumbledore and the other professors had placed. He got to the very bottom chamber and stopped in front of a mirror.

"Very good, Quirrell, very good!" hissed Tom. "You have turned out to be useful after all!"

"But…but where is the stone?" said Quirrell, confused.

"Don't worry, the stone will arrive soon," Tom assured him, "Along with the boy. He is on his way. I can feel it."

And tonight, Tom hastened to add, he would rise back to power.

After 10 dreadfully long years.

* * *

**Note: If anybody is interested, or hasn't seen it yet, there is a great movie on YouTube called "**Magic Beyond Words". **It's about JK Rowling and how she started writing the series. It is very inspirational for those of you who are aspiring authors. Let me know if you watch it! I recommend it to anyone who wants to be a writer or who simply loves this magical series and wants to know how it all began. **


	31. Harry Potter

**Author's Note: Yes, my fingers still hurt terribly from all the typing I've done today, but I love you guys too much so here is the new chapter.**

**Again, apologies for it being very similar to the scene from the book. I tried to combine it with the book and the movie versions and a bit of my own stuff in there, but yeah, when you go canon, you gotta go canon. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

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_...Don't worry, the stone will arrive soon," Tom assured him, "Along with the boy. He is on his way. I can feel it."_

_And tonight, Tom hastened to add, he would rise back to power._

_After 10 dreadfully long years..._

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**CHAPTER 31: HARRY POTTER**

The minutes ticked away into the silence as Quirrell walked round and round the mirror, looking desperately for some kind of a key or a clue.

"Have you sent _him_ away?" Tom hissed as they waited.

"Yes, master," replied Quirrell. "He is off in London now…won't be back for hours and by that time, we shall be gone already."

"Good," said Tom. "Very good. The plan is working."

"Indeed it is, master," said Quirrell, who now stopped in front of the mirror and stared at it. "When is the boy coming?"

"Soon!" cried Tom. "Patience, Quirrell, patience! He has many obstacles to go through before he reaches me."

"I want the stone," muttered Quirrell.

"I hope you're not forgetting who the stone is for, Quirrell," said Tom, boldly.

"Of course not, master!" cried Quirrell in protest. "I wouldn't dream of it!"

"I believe you," lied Tom.

But he had no time to waste now, worrying about where indeed Quirrell's loyalties lay. At this very moment, Harry Potter was headed towards him. He would be able to meet him at last, for the first time since that night all those years ago. This was his once chance to achieve revenge for all the damage this boy had caused. He would not let this chance fail him. He would not allow it.

"I hear him coming!" hissed Quirrell. "I hear him, master, I hear him!"

"Patience!" ordered Tom. "Keep your cool—the boy has been suspecting Snape this entire time. You need to explain it all to him first, if you want him to cooperate."

"Yes, master," muttered Quirrell. "But you never told me that the boy—"

"Focus, fool!" hissed Tom, and Quirrell quickly fell silent.

Tom heard footsteps in the distance. He was nearing. Ah, the moment Tom had been waiting for, for ten painful years. The moment was here at last.

"You!" cried the voice of Harry Potter.

Quirrell turned around to face him.

"Me," he said, in a very different voice than before. Quirrell had obviously taken control of the situation. "I wondered when you'd be coming here, Potter."

"But," said the boy, who sounded as though he was lost for words, "But I thought…_Snape_…"

"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he?" said Quirrell, bitterly. "So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat."

"Easy!" Tom hissed, who was growing annoyed with Quirrell's constant bashing on Severus.

So far, Severus was the only one of his Death Eaters whom Tom had recognized to have not changed one bit. He was a very good actor and Tom knew he would return to him as soon as Lord Voldemort would rise again. When that time came, hopefully tonight, Tom would be sure to reward Severus.

"Next to _him_," continued Quirrell, "Who would suspect p-p-p-p-poor s-s-s-s-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

Oh great, now it had all gotten _personal_ for Quirrell. He was too involved in the situation. _It all would have worked out better if I'd had someone more equipped for the job_, thought Tom.

"But Snape tried to kill me!" the boy protested.

"No, my dear boy, _I_ tried to kill you!" cried Quirrell, angrily. "And trust me, if I hadn't broken eye contact, I would have succeeded! Yes, even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse."

"Snape was trying to…_save_ me?" said the boy.

"Of course!" laughed Quirrell. "Funny really, he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching me anyway. But what a waste of time it all was, for I am going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers and Tom watched through the turban as the mirror's reflection showed ropes binding the Potter boy so that he could not move. He struggled for a moment but they were wrapped tightly around him.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter," Quirrell added with a sneer.

"It was you!" cried the boy. "_You_ let the troll in!"

"Very good, Potter, yes," said Quirrell. "Snape unfortunately wasn't fooled. While everyone was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off." He paused. "He of course never trusted me again. He rarely left me alone. But he doesn't understand. I'm never alone. _Never_."

Normally, this would have cracked a smile on Tom's face but he was too focused tonight. . . too eager—too intent on settling this, once and for all.

"Now," said Quirrell, who also seemed to have gotten serious, "What does this mirror do exactly?"

"It is the Mirror of Erised," Tom whispered in his ears. He remembered for he had seen it in the Room of Requirement back in his Hogwarts days.

"I see what I desire," said Quirrell, "I see myself holding the stone. But…how do I get it? Master, help me! _How_ do I get it?!"

"Use the boy!" Tom hissed. He thought it would have been obvious.

With another snap of Quirrell's fingers, the ropes freed Potter who stumbled backwards a little and let out a small gasp.

"COME HERE, POTTER, NOW!" shouted Quirrell.

Terrified looking, the boy slowly made his way across the chamber until he was standing right next to Quirrell. Quirrell pointed him to the mirror.

"Tell me, what do you see?" he said, quietly.

A moment passed. Tom waited. Harry Potter was too close to him now. He only wished he had a body of his own so he could strangle the boy to death. He had grown so detached from his wand after years and years of its absence, that he didn't think it would suffice now.

"What is it, what do you see?!" cried Quirrell, impatiently.

"I…I s-see myself shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore," said the boy. "I've…won the house cup."

"He lies!" hissed Tom. His voice echoed throughout the chamber, frightening the boy slightly.

"TELL THE TRUTH! WHAT DO YOU SEE?!" bellowed Quirrell.

"Let _me_ speak to him," instructed Tom, who was growing more eager by the second.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell pointed out.

If Tom had a body of his own, he knew his heart would be pounding against his chest hard and there would be sweat all over him. But this was the moment at last. He was not going to let it slip by him.

"I have strength enough for this," he whispered, and with that, Quirrell began to unwrap the turban.

The first thing that Tom saw once his face was freed was his own reflection in the mirror—the chalk-white face, the bulging red eyes, and the slits for a snakelike nose. But then, quite suddenly, he spotted the boy. The boy was staring at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Tom smiled.

"Harry Potter," he said, in a low voice. "We meet again."

"Voldemort," said the boy in a frightened voice.

"Yes," said Tom, "You see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another and be a parasite… unicorn blood can sustain me, yes, but it cannot give me a body of my own." He paused. "But there is something that can—something that conveniently enough lies in your pocket."

It was as though something had hit the boy hard from the back for he turned around abruptly and made a run for it.

"Stop him!" cried Tom, and Quirrell snapped his fingers again.

Red flames burst out of every corner, blocking the boy's exit. Tom laughed his high, cold laugh. It sent a shiver down Quirrell's spine. Tom felt it.

"Don't be a fool," he said to the boy now, "Why suffer a horrific death when you can join _me _and live?"

"Never!" cried the boy.

Tom laughed again.

"Bravery," he said, "Your parents had it too. Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again?" The boy stared at him in shock. He could almost see the belief spreading across the innocent, naïve face. "I killed your father first and he put up a courageous fight. You are very much like him, Harry. But your mother…_she_ needn't have died. In fact, she was trying to protect _you_. Now, if you give me the stone, she will not have died in vain! It is that simple, boy."

At this, the boy reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the blood-red stone. It gleamed in the firelight as the boy twisted it in his little fingers.

"That's it, Harry," said Tom, who felt so eager he was just about ready to attack the boy himself. If only he had a body of his own…

"That's it, give it here," he continued, "Because together, we could bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."

The looked as though he was ready to give in. He looked from Tom to the stone and then back to Tom.

"There is no good and evil, son," Tom added, "There is only power and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraordinary things. Just give me that stone!"

He was so sure that he had the boy now, but suddenly, the boy cried "YOU LIAR!"

"KILL HIM!" bellowed Tom, deciding it was time to act.

Quirrell flew right up to the boy and seized him, pulling him down to the stone steps. He wrapped his fingers around the boy's throat and began to choke him as hard as he could. Tom felt all of Quirrell's strength working at the task at hand, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a painful sensation prickled around his fingers. Quirrell let go of the boy and backed away. His hand began to crumble into bits and pieces, like stone.

"What is this magic?!" he yelled as the pain and agony overcame him.

"FOOL, GET THE STONE!" shouted Tom.

He could already feel the vulnerability and desperation in his own voice. His opportunity to get it all back was slipping from him.

Quirrell spotted the gleaming red stone which had hit the ground. He made to reach for it, but the boy seemed to have gotten to him first for now, Tom felt the other side of his head burning like blazing fire. He felt it too crumble to pieces as Quirrell shrieked and yelled in pain.

"THE STONE! THE STONE! GET ME THE STONE!" Tom shouted over and over again, but Quirrell was no longer able to move or talk or even think. Too weak to carry on, he crumbled to the floor and died instantly.

Once again, Tom felt that horrible sensation of being pulled away from his body—or the body he had occupied for a little less than a year now—against his will. The last time he had felt it, 10 years ago, he had lost everything. Now, he watched as it happened again...as he crumbled into nothingness. The boy's back was turned to him and he was holding something in his hand. Not knowing what else to do, Tom decided to flee once again. He swept right through the boy. The boy yelled out loud and then fell against the stone steps.

Tom however, was already gone from the chamber. He had failed again. He had not gotten the stone. He had let his one last chance for resurrection slip by him. None of his Death Eaters had come to his aid. He was officially without hope. He moved quickly, knowing that soon Dumbledore and the others would come to the boy's aid. The boy—he seemed to always have someone aiding him. Whatever happened to loyalty? Tom did not stop to think about this. He was gone from the chamber. Gone from the castle. Gone from his life, yet again.

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**Do you guys think Tom would have considered letting Harry Potter join him and "be stronger together"?**


	32. A Servant's Return

**Author's Note: OooooooOoooOo things about to escalate. Hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

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_...He moved quickly, knowing that soon Dumbledore and the others would come to the boy's aid. The boy—he seemed to always have someone aiding him. Whatever happened to loyalty? Tom did not stop to think about this. He was gone from the chamber. Gone from the castle. Gone from his life, yet again..._

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**CHAPTER 32: A SERVANT'S RETURN**

So…back in the forest again. How wonderful.

He moved along the cold of the woods, feeling sorry for himself again. What had he been reduced to? Well, it had been a long shot. Quirrell had after all been nothing but a pathetic, stuttering little half blood. At least he was gone and dead. But Tom had been _so_ close to getting the stone! And the boy…he had gotten so close to him. He could have killed him. _If only_ he had a body…he wouldn't finished him for good.

The only good that had come out of this last year was seeing Severus again and knowing that he, unlike so many of the others, had not changed one bit in the Dark Lord's absence. And it pleased Tom very much to know that Severus was making Potter's life difficult, however petty his ways were. At least _something _was being done by _someone_ in the Dark Lord's absence.

But now, Tom was back to square one. He was back where he had been before Quirrell's introduction. And, as though it were at all possible, he was now even weaker than before. He barely had any strength to carry on, much less possess any animals. Though, the snakes that he occasionally found lingering about the forest did give him a tiny bit of energy. Still, it was nothing compared to what he once had, long ago, before everything had crumbled to nothingness. And it was probably foolish of him to hope that he would ever have that again. He wondered, as he stayed under the tree and watched the rain drip from the leaves, whether Dumbledore knew where he was hiding. And, if so, why hadn't he come for him?

* * *

_**TWO YEARS PASS**_

* * *

The snake was being very stubborn. She seemed to have sensed that Tom had chosen her as his next place of refuge. She did not seem to want to stay still. But Tom was ever so clever and cunning. He stayed still and very quiet, fooling the snake into believing that he had forgotten about her. Then, when the snake was convinced that he had and she moved closer, Tom grasped her quickly and forced himself inside. The snake coiled and hissed loudly as though she were having a seizure. And then, she grew quiet.

"Attagirl," said Tom, already inside her.

He hissed his way through the woods, looking for prey. It was yet another lonely summer. Tom had grown so used to these woods that he knew his way around too well. Like it or not, it had become his home, and there was a very good chance that it would always remain his home.

His Death Eaters had turned out to be the worst sort of traitors. None of them remembered him—not a single one. He knew he could count on Severus to remain loyal, but Severus' position was very complicated. It would be a suicide mission to try and contact him, with Dumbledore right at his side. But Tom had given up hope a long time ago. He was sure that he would remain in the forest for the rest of time and that his Death Eaters would eventually die off, after having lived their warm, comfortable lives. Those who were in Azkaban however, were probably not that much worse off than Tom. Dementors, after all, were not pleasant creatures at all when they didn't have Tom to guide them.

Tom had stopped counting the days a couple of months ago but he was still sure that it was somewhere mid-July at the moment. For the most part, it was fairly warm out and the forest animals were always hopping around. Some of them knew Tom too well by now and tried hard to stay clear of him. He must have possessed and killed over ten thousand animals in his time there. How very cruel of him.

One day, he found himself unable to think of anything other than Harry Potter. He must have just finished his third-year at Hogwarts. Tom sincerely hoped that Severus had given him a particularly hard time. He wondered what the boy had been up to. Was he nearly as clever or intelligent as Tom had been at that age? Was his hatred for Tom growing? Was he planning some sort of revenge anytime soon? Nothing would excite Tom more than to face him once again.

Somewhere in the distance, a twig snapped. Someone was coming. _Not another Quirrell_, thought Tom. _Please not another Quirrell._

He waited. Whoever it was, they'd decided not to show themselves, so Tom decided to stay put. He didn't exactly have the strength or energy to go chasing after them. Though, it would be nice to possess another human again. Humans after all had greater lifespans than animals and therefore more energy to provide Tom with. These days, he was finding it difficult to even breathe, let alone move or think.

The forest had been a great home to him, but he wanted nothing more than to get out already. Every tree he laid upon suddenly grew very old. Every leaf he touched died instantly. Everywhere he was, things darkened and weakened. He knew his soul was too strong and too influential for all life in the forest. But for him, his soul was nothing without his powers. The only powers he'd been able to keep were his ability to possess things and to speak Parseltongue. _Oh how he missed his wand._

Another twig snapped. Tom wheeled around and stared at the trees behind him.

"Whoever you are, show yourself!" he demanded into the quiet of the woods.

And then, quite unexpectedly, a short man came from behind a thick tree trunk. He was staring at Tom with such an expression of gratitude. He slowly moved towards him and then knelt down beside him and bowed low.

"M-master!" he cried.

He was literally crying. Tears were streaming all over his face. The man was in a complete state of shock and delight. Tom stared at him, wondering at first if he was a ghost and then deciding that he was as alive as Quirrell had been.

"Hello again, Wormtail," said Tom, coolly.

"Oh m-master, how l-long it's been!" gasped Wormtail. "How f-far I have gone in search for you!"

"Oh really?" said Tom. "And exactly how long have you been searching for me, Wormtail?"

"Just a little over a month, master!" exclaimed Wormtail. "I have been in hiding all this time."

"Yes, that part I already know," said Tom. "Weren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Supposed to be but I narrowly escaped imprisonment in Azkaban!" cried Wormtail.

"Do explain," said Tom.

"When I learned of your downfall, master, I had to act fast. All the others were being rounded up, some that very night, others a week later. I knew that I would have to go into hiding before they figured out that I had betrayed the Potters' location. Sirius was the one who figured it out. He went after me and I decided to stage my death. He is in Azkaban all this time, master, because everyone believed that he killed me along with 12 muggle bystanders."

"What of the others?" said Tom, who was not very interested in this story.

"I do not know much, master," explained Wormtail. "But the Lestranges have been taken away. And Karkaroff and Crouch too. Though, Karkaroff was let out because he gave the court some names. He is now Headmaster of Durmstrang School."

"That slimy git," muttered Tom.

"Yeah, it's certainly surprising how many betrayed each other after everything went bad," said Wormtail, thoughtfully.

"What about Avery and Rowle and Rosier? Where are they now?"

"Hiding, sir," said Wormtail.

Hiding? _They_ were hiding? Tom could not believe it. He had never expected this of them. They had been his most trusted followers! They were the original Death Eaters. They had grown up with Tom, amidst Trophy Room meetings and Hogsmeade attacks. They had laughed and played games on the Hogwarts Express. How could they betray him now, after everything he'd done for them—after everything he'd given them.

"Tell me," said Tom, not wanting to show his shock, "How have you managed to stay in hiding all these years, Wormtail?"

"I never got around to telling you, master?" said Wormtail, who looked a mixture of proud and anxious. "I am an animagus."

It took a few seconds for these words to make sense to Tom. But once they did, he burst out laughing.

"You? Animagus?"

"That's right, sir," said Wormtail, who looked a little hurt now, but nevertheless smiled. "I have been since I was fifteen."

"You don't say," laughed Tom.

"I really am!" cried Wormtail.

"And what do you turn into?"

"A rat."

This stopped Tom's laughter at once. He now knew that Wormtail was telling the truth. He had always imagined him as a rat and it made perfect sense.

"I've been pretending to be some wizard family's pet," continued Wormtail. "And I have seen the boy, master. My owner is his best mate so I have watched the boys."

"What has been happening up at the school?" Tom demanded. He was now very alert.

"Sirius escaped from Azkaban this last year," began Wormtail, "And everyone was looking for him. Dementors had come to guard the castle too. But one of Potter's mates bought this big cat and it somehow seemed to know exactly what I was. It chased me around everywhere I went—even attacked me a couple of times! It was so vicious and I tried escaping but Ron (my master) kept finding me and bringing me back. Anyway, one night we all somehow ended up in the Whomping Willow...it's this tree that Dumbledore planted at the school back when I used to go there. It was used by my old school mate, Remus Lupin. He's that werewolf that Greyback transformed. And the tree leads to a tunnel to the Shrieking Shack at Hogsmeade. Anyway, Sirius was there and he confronted me. They...they were going to kill me, master. They were going to kill me!"

"What happened?" urged Tom.

"Oh, Remus had forgotten to take his potion that night and it was a full moon, so in all the confusion I transformed back into a rat and escaped. I was so sure that the Potter boy was going to go after me for he hadn't been too pleased at learning that it was I who betrayed his parents, not Black."

"That's quite a story," commented Tom. "All this happened this last year, you say?"

"Yes, sir," said Wormtail, who looked pleased with himself.

"And what about the year before? Anything interesting occur?"

There was silence.

"You won't be pleased," warned Wormtail.

"What?" urged Tom. "WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Well," said Wormtail, slowly. "It's Lucius, master. Lucius Malfoy. He…he did something terrible."

"What has he done?"

"I don't know exactly how he did it…I was only a rat at the time. But from what I heard my owner discussing with the Potter boy, they suspected that Lucius slipped some kind of a diary into a young girl's cauldron…a diary that belonged to you. And...and she was talking to you in that diary all year...the girl...and...and apparently the diary m-manipulated her into opening the Chamber of Secrets and…."

"And what? WHAT?!" cried Tom, whose rage was now increasing at an alarming pace.

"Well the monster attacked students," said Wormtail.

"Did it really?" said Tom, "How many? Were there any deaths? Was Dumbledore absolutely furious?"

"Oh, he was furious," said Wormtail. "But no, no deaths. Lots of people were petrified—mostly muggle-borns...er, mudbloods, I mean. But Potter saved the day again, as usual, and Dumbledore awarded the House Cup to Gryffindor. Can you believe it?"

"FOOL!" shouted Tom. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE HOUSE CUP! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE _DIARY?!_"

"Oh," said Wormtail, who had jumped a couple of times in alarm. "It…P-potter destroyed it, s-s-sir."

If Tom had thought that things had been bad up until now...

First, Lucius and his family betrayed him by pretending they'd been cursed all along. Then, they went ahead and got themselves prestigious ministry jobs and forgot all about him. And now this...

Tom was quiet for a long time. He didn't know exactly how to respond to this. He didn't know how to carry on anymore. He felt shamed. He didn't want anybody looking at him in this fragile state...not even Wormtail.

"Wormtail," he said in a quiet voice. Wormtail leaned closer to listen. "I need a body."

"I understand, master," said Wormtail. "I've come back to help you."

And at this, he pulled out something Tom had not seen in 13 years and offered it to him.

"It took me a while to get a hold of it, but I found it," said Wormtail, and he bowed his head.

"My wand," said Tom, softly. He eyed it with a kind of longing he could not control, and almost felt tears.

"Keep it with you for now," he finally said, restraining himself. "I cannot hold anything, if you haven't noticed."

"Yes, my lord," said Wormtail. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it, sir."

Tom thought for a long time and then sighed. This was his last chance. He could not think of another way to do it. There was no alternative.

"Wormtail," he said. "Bring me Nagini."

* * *

Tom watched through the window as Wormtail made his way across the dark lawn, followed closely by the large, green snake slithering at his feet. He was also carrying a bag with the essential items in it, and he had his wand clenched tightly in his hand. Tom heard the door downstairs burst open and then the creaking of the stairs as Wormtail climbed them.

"Master!" he said once he'd reached the bedroom. "I've brought everything, master, and the snake is—"

"Well, well," she interrupted as she slithered into the room. "If it isn't my master at last."

"Good evening, Nagini," said Tom in Parseltongue. "How long it's been."

"Yes, my point exactly!" hissed Nagini, apparently furious. "I've waited for you for _thirteen years_! Where have you been all this time?!"

"Nagini—"

"You _promised_ you'd come back for me that night, do you remember?!" she said in a sort of child's voice.

"Enough!" hissed Tom, angrily. "I've been delayed, as you may have noticed."

Nagini was now wrapped around his chair and hissing violently. Meanwhile, Wormtail spilled the contents of his bag onto the floor and sorted through them—books, jars of unicorn blood, and empty bottles.

"Alright, alright!" said Tom, finally. "I have missed you too, Nagini."

She hissed but did not object to his words of affection.

"Have you got it, Wormtail?" said Tom.

"Y-yes, master," said Wormtail, who had cracked open one of the books and was skimming through the pages. "But you need the snake's venom."

"You heard the man, Nagini," said Tom in Parseltongue.

Hours later, the potion was complete. Though, it tasted absolutely revolting. But Tom knew that this was only a temporary solution to his problem, so he chucked it down without complaint. The process took several painful hours, during which Tom was sure he'd passed out a couple of times. Wormtail's scared voice kept on fading in and out and Tom's vision was blurred again and again. Finally, at long last, everything stopped and Tom felt free to open his eyes.

Eyes. He had _eyes._ _Real_ eyes. And fingers. Long fingers which he held in front of him and moved around slowly. Though, they were bony and skeletal. He was barely able to lift his arms for they were still weak. The potion had not given him his powers back but it had given him more strength and the ability to survive in a rudimentary body. This was much better than anything he'd had in the last 13 years. Pleased, he turned to look at Wormtail.

"I'm cold," he said in a low voice.

Wormtail grabbed the covers from the bed and rushed to Tom's side.

"You will need to nurse me, Wormtail," Tom said to him as he was covered with the blankets. "My pain has been lessened, yes, but I still cannot take care of myself."

"Of course, master," said Wormtail quickly. "Anything, master."

"Bring me my wand, I want to hold it," said Tom.

Wormtail jumped to his bag and retrieved the wand instantly. Tom ran his fingers along it, remembering how wonderful it felt to hold it.

"Good," he said. "I am very glad you returned, Wormtail. . . how ever foolish your choices may have been."

Wormtail gulped loudly but still accepted Tom's compliment.

"Master," he said, suddenly. "What is this place?"

Tom looked around at the dark walls and ceiling, the dusty old furniture, the small spider webs in the corners.

"Tis my father's home," he answered after a long silence.

"I didn't know you were from Little Hangleton!" exclaimed Wormtail.

"I'm not," muttered Tom. "I was brought up in a muggle orphanage, Wormtail, you knew that."

"Oh right, of course," said Wormtail.

"When I was sixteen, I journeyed here to find my father. He lived here with his parents at the time."

"Your grandparents!" exclaimed Wormtail.

Tom smiled wickedly.

"I still remember their screams as though it were only yesterday," he told Wormtail. "They had no idea I'd come all that way to kill them."

"D-did you duel? Were they any good?"

Tom screwed up his eyes. He'd forgotten that none of the Death Eaters knew much about his ancestry—about his blood status. They didn't know his father had been a muggle and that his mother was too weak to live.

"Yes," he finally said. "But I was better. I am always better."

"Yes, I know!" exclaimed Wormtail.

"Wormtail," said Tom, suddenly feeling something tight in his throat. "I need the milk. Get me the milk."

Wormtail rushed over to his bag and retrieved one of the jars which contained the milk from Nagini. He poured the contents into a small cup and rushed over to Tom's side. He held Tom as he fed it to him and Tom, disregarding how vulnerable and fragile he was, drank.

"Now," said Tom once he was finished and Wormtail went to sit on the bed. "Enough reminiscing. We have lots of work to do. I need you to go and bring someone back—someone who can supply us with information as to what has been going on back at Hogwarts and the Ministry."

"Yes, master," said Wormtail, nodding.

"You mustn't be long," Tom warned. "As I've said, I cannot take care of myself and I need you here."

"Of course, master," said Wormtail.

* * *

"What do you want from me?!" cried Bertha Jorkins.

Wormtail pointed both his wand and hers straight at the old woman as she stood in the corner, trembling from head to toe.

"We just want a little chat," said Tom, who was sitting in his chair and facing the window. "You were gone too long, Wormtail."

"My apologies, master," said Wormtail, quickly. "It took a while to convince her to come back here with me."

"Who are you?" cried Bertha. "What do you want?"

"Wormtail, turn me around," said Tom. Wormtail obliged and as soon as Bertha saw what she was dealing with, her eyes became very round and her face very white, almost ghostly.

Tom pointed his wand at her and could almost feel the excitement building up inside of him. It had been too long a time since he'd last done this.

"CRUCIO!" he shouted and Bertha shrieked in pain.

"Muffliato!" cried Wormtail so that the woman's shrieks would not awaken the nearby villagers.

When Tom lifted the curse, Bertha was trembling on the floor in the corner of the room.

"You remind me a lot of an old hag I once knew," laughed Tom. "Hepzibah Smith, perhaps you've heard of her?"

Bertha shook her head.

"Liar," muttered Tom. "Perhaps another bit of pain?"

Wormtail clapped his hands excitedly.

After the second round of the curse, Bertha gasped in shock and leaned against the wall for support.

"Now," said Tom. "She is ready to talk."

As far as Tom was concerned, there was no feeling in the world like it—possessing someone. He was allowed access to every single one of Bertha's private memories. He glimpsed her childhood, glimpsed her days at Hogwarts with some familiar characters (Sirius Black being among them)… he finally got to the parts he was most interested in: her work at the Ministry. He watched as Bertha discussed various Death Eaters with Barty Crouch Sr. He watched as Crouch muttered something about his traitor son and how he deserved to rot in Azkaban. He watched as Bertha discussed the upcoming Triwizard Tournament with an auror Tom recognised as Alastor Moody. They discussed tactics for the tasks and made arrangements for the competing schools: Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons.

"Get away from me!" shrieked Bertha.

And then, Tom saw something that Bertha had tried desperately to conceal from him. Crouch had placed a memory charm on her, through which Tom was able to fight his way. Tom saw the conversation with Crouch again. He saw Bertha confronting Crouch about letting his son out of Azkaban and taking him home. No one knew about this and Bertha had guessed it.

Tom withdrew from her mind. Beautiful. This was just beautiful.

But the Triwizard Tournament? He'd read about it of course, during his years at Hogwarts, but as far as he knew, it hadn't been hosted for years. Had the ministry finally decided to give it another try? Tom's face brightened up considerably.

"Wormtail," he said, "Go and fetch Nagini for me."

"Yes, master!" cried Wormtail and he was out the door.

Bertha breathed loudly.

"Something the matter, dear?" said Tom, simply.

"W-what do you w-want from me?" she muttered in response.

"Honestly?" said Tom. "I need your life in order to perform a little procedure…think of it as a sort of sacrifice for the greater good."

Bertha grew even whiter. This forced a little smile on Tom's face. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed doing this. Soon, Wormtail returned with Nagini, and Tom summoned his energy to lift his arm to wave at Bertha. It was quite painful, yes, but so worth it.

"Goodbye, Bertha Jorkins," he said, before pointing his wand at her and then at Nagini.

"Now, you shall stay close to me at all times," Tom told Nagini after the procedure was done. "We are more closely connected now than we have ever been before."

"Yes, sir," hissed Nagini, who was staring hungrily at Bertha's lifeless form in the corner.

"Go ahead," laughed Tom.

"Thanks!" she exclaimed as she made her way over to where the old hag lay and began to feast.

"Wormtail," said Tom after Nagini was done and retreated from the room to explore the house, "I have another job for you."

"Yes, master, anything," said Wormtail.

"You are to go and find Barty Crouch," declared Tom.

"S-s-sir?"

"Junior," Tom clarified.

"But h-he's in Azkaban, master."

"No, no, Jorkins has just revealed to me that he has been released, though no one knows this. It'll be easy for you to bring him. He'll come willingly, I know he will."

"Yes, master," said Wormtail, who began to pull on his travelling cloak.

"Oh and Wormtail," said Tom. "Do not be long this time."

* * *

**RECAP:**

**We have now reached the events of the Goblet of Fire. Tom has been reunited with Wormtail and Nagini. He has finally made her into a Horcrux. I know it's not canon that Nagini was around in the first wizarding war but in this story, she was. So now that she's back and she's very useful, Tom makes her into a Horcrux because why not? And, as you saw at the end of the chapter, an old friend will soon rejoin them. Yay.**

**If you were a little puzzled by the sudden 'two years later', I did not fast-forward because I don't know what Tom did in that time. I know exactly what he did, but it is irrelevant to the story. All you need to know is that he spent those two years in that Albanian Forest, feeling even weaker than before and brooding over his Death Eaters—the traitors.**

**One last thing…about the whole Diary Horcrux getting destroyed…no, Tom did not know that Lucius went against his orders and slipped the diary to Ginny Weasley's cauldron…nor did Tom feel anything when the diary was destroyed. As J.K mentioned in an interview, he did not feel pain when his Horcruxes were destroyed. I will stay true to that with the first couple of Horcruxes. After, Tom will start feeling something whenever another one is destroyed.**

**Sorry for the rant, and please PM me if you have any questions or suggestions or requests for anything!**


	33. Barty Crouch Junior

**Author's Note: Hey readers! As of this moment, there are 17 chapters left until the end of this story. I sincerely hope that you will like them. I am especially excited for the second last chapter. You'll see why. Hope you enjoy this and next update will hopefully be within the next couple of days. Have a great week everyone! **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_"...S-s-sir?"_

_"Junior," Tom clarified._

_"But h-he's in Azkaban, master."_

_"No, no, Jorkins has just revealed to me that he has been released, though no one knows this. It'll be easy for you to bring him. He'll come willingly, I know he will."_

_"Yes, master," said Wormtail, who began to pull on his travelling cloak._

_"Oh and Wormtail," said Tom. "Do not be long this time..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 33: BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR**

"I am too weak to travel, Wormtail," said Tom as the short man carried him through the dark field. "I must be brought back immediately."

"Soon, my lord, soon!" said Wormtail, apologetically. "He is under the imperius curse, my lord. He will not come back with me alone and I've no strength to break the curse myself, sir."

"Is there anything you can do right, Wormtail?" said Tom.

Wormtail made a sort of grunting noise but handed Tom his wand, which Tom gripped tightly in his hand. Wormtail now carried him up to the front steps of the house determinedly, with Nagini slithering at his feet as she followed.

"It must be quick," Tom hissed as Wormtail said, "Of course, my lord."

Wormtail knocked on the door three times and waited. The door opened, revealing Barty Crouch Senior. Just before he'd reached for his wand, Tom pointed his own at him and yelled "IMPERIO!" The man's eyes became unfocused and he stood there. Wormtail let himself into the house and settled Tom on a chair.

"Close the door, Wormtail," said Tom and Wormtail quickly ushered senior into the living room and locked the door behind him.

As it clicked shut, a man shed an invisibility cloak and revealed himself to be standing in the corner of the room. He stared at Tom for a long time, wide-eyed. Azkaban had really changed his physical appearance. Though he looked like he had been nursed back to health, he did not resemble his younger self. The man looked gaunt, sickly—haunted even. But his facial expression was not that of fear or anxiety. He looked shocked and amazed. And then, he quickly moved across the room and sank to the floor next to the armchair so that he was levelled with Tom. He looked up at him hopefully, his eyes now completely focused and aware, and then he slowly bowed his head.

"Welcome back, my lord," he said, darkly.

"It is good to see you too," said Tom, weakly, "Barty Crouch Junior."

* * *

Wormtail held the cup up to Tom's lips as Tom sucked on the milky liquid.

"More," he kept on repeating and again and again, Wormtail moved from Nagini back to Tom. It seemed hours before Tom was finally satisfied and Wormtail heaved a deep sigh. He set down the cup and sat next to junior on the bed, both of them facing Tom in his bundle of blankets on the armchair.

The three were back at the Riddle House. Tom had insisted that they meet there. He had no interest in staying at the Crouches house. Their house elf, Winky, had been jinxed into a deep sleep and would not wake for hours. Crouch Senior was roaming around the Riddle House, humming stupidly whilst under the imperius curse.

"As you can see," said Tom, addressing junior, "I have been weakened to a great degree. I must now survive like this," he slowly raised an arm and gestured at the room, "and have my servant nurse me." His eyes lingered for a moment on Wormtail, sitting next to Crouch on the bed like an excited but frightened dog.

"That is a temporary solution, though, isn't it, my lord?" said Crouch, quickly.

Tom looked back at him in amazement and smiled weakly.

"Yes," he said, "I do not plan on living on like this—most certainly not. That is partly why I have summoned you tonight."

"But how did you—"

"A ministry witch kindly volunteered to provide us with information," explained Tom, thinking of Bertha Jorkins' remains that were stowed away in the corridor closet, waiting for Nagini to return to.

"Us?" said Crouch, glancing once at Wormtail.

"It has just been me and Wormtail this past summer," said Tom.

Crouch looked down at his feet.

"I would have returned, my lord, you know I would have. But I—"

"It is quite alright, junior," said Tom, quietly. "I already know about your imprisonment and I know about the circumstances of your release. I must say, your father is very cunning. Tis a shame he never thought to join our ranks. I could have used him." Tom's eyes lingered over at Crouch senior who was standing over in the corner of the room, looking up at the ceiling with fascination.

Junior made a disparaging noise that was somewhere between a cough and a grunt, but said nothing. Neither did Tom. It felt really good to be reunited with one of his most loyal servants once again—one who had _not_ betrayed him.

"I could kill him, if master wishes it," said junior finally.

"No, I most certainly do not," said Tom, surprising him. "He must stay alive. I have a big job for you, Crouch. Are you ready to risk everything for me?"

"Yes, sir," said junior automatically.

Tom was very pleased with this answer and eyed him for a long time.

"S-so," said Wormtail, nervously. "W-w-what happens n-now, my lord?"

"Now," said Tom, speaking to both of them, "Senior should be brought back to his home. I have placed special enchantments around it so that he cannot leave unless the imperius curse stops working...and it will not stop working until I lift it. He shall return there and go about his regular duties. He shall contact the ministry only by mail and only regarding work. Nothing else."

"Can't I simply dispose of him, sir?" tried junior.

"Not yet, old friend," said Tom.

Junior smiled slightly.

"I heard of the happenings at the Quidditch World Cup," said Tom.

Junior's face darkened.

"I am not mad," said Tom, mistaking it for shame. "I am most pleased. It has been a long time since the dark mark was conjured, I dare say... too long."

"But master," said junior, darkly. "Master, you should have seen them. Your followers...the ones who once long ago swore their loyalty to you...they _swore_ it!. . . and they ran like cowards! I could have killed them then and there. I ought to have killed them. That is no way to treat their master!"

"Calm yourself, junior," said Tom, simply. "Everyone will eventually get what they deserve, I will see to it myself."

Junior nodded and then rose to his feet and led his father out of the room. He returned alone just an hour later and informed Tom that Crouch Senior was in his home, as planned. Tom nodded approvingly and junior knelt down before him.

"What happens next, sir?"

"Next, we shall concoct a plan to bring everyone back together. But first, oh yes, my priority…first, I want to be resurrected." He paused. "I want a full body."

"How are we to achieve that, my lord?" said Crouch at once.

"I have tried several different ways over the last thirteen years, junior," said Tom, thoughtfully. "I possessed animals for a long time but they died off too quickly. I possessed a young wizard a few years back but he too ended up dead. It seems that all my powers have been stripped from me, with the exception of my ability to possess other living things."

There was a moment of silence.

"Y-you w-w-w-w-want t-t-t-to possess–us?" said Wormtail, who looked to be on the verge of tears.

Tom laughed out loud.

"Most certainly not," he said, "You Wormtail are dead. You can't go walking around freely, can you?"

"Would master like me to volunteer for this?" said Crouch in a low voice.

"No," said Tom, smiling down at him. "I have another job for you. A _very_ important job for which I know you will be perfect."

He smiled to himself, thinking of the brilliant plan that he had devised in Wormtail's absence. He now knew it would work for Crouch had just shown him in the last few hours alone of his continued loyalty and servitude. He knew it would be successful.

"But more of that later," he added. "For now, we shall focus on my resurrection."

The two men nodded and listened intently. When Tom was finished describing the procedure for his resurrection, neither of the men spoke. They sat in deep thought for a long time. Wormtail looked as though he were contemplating something, but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

It seemed that an hour had passed in the silence. Tom motioned for Wormtail to bring him more milk at one point. Finally, after Wormtail had put the cup back and took his seat on the bed again, Crouch spoke up.

"As I understand it, my lord wishes to use the Potter boy."

"Correct," said Tom, smiling again.

"But—" began Wormtail.

"And my lord wishes for me to bring the boy?" said Crouch, who had lowered his voice even more.

"Yes," said Tom. "In the coming days, you and I will further discuss the specific way you will go about this."

Crouch nodded in understanding. Beside him, Wormtail was wrestling with something he wanted to say but was not sure if he should say it. Ignoring him, Tom turned to Crouch again.

"Let me see your mark."

Crouch immediately leapt off the bed and went to sit beside Tom. He rolled up the sleeve of his arm and held it up for Tom to see. The Dark Mark was there, black against Crouch's skin. It was moving very slowly as though it were breathing.

"The time is close now," said Tom, observantly.

"M-m-m-my lord, I think I h-h-h-h-hear something," said Wormtail, who was now looking around the room violently.

"It is an old house, Wormtail," said Tom. "I am the meanest creature here. Do not worry. Before I forget, I understand you are in need of a wand, junior." Tom reached over to his side and pulled out a wand which he held out to Crouch. Crouch took it in his hands and examined it.

"Thank you, my lord," he said. "Whose was this?"

"Bertha Jorkins," said Tom, simply. "She won't be needing it anymore, I think."

"M-my lord," said Wormtail, again, who looked completely and utterly worried. He moved closer to Tom with careful steps that made the floorboards beneath his feet creak. With every creak, Wormtail jumped as though someone had hexed him. "I…m-my lord, I have thought about your plan . . . about your procedure. And I completely understand everything, sir, I do. B-but… m-my lord, it'll be impossible to get to the boy now. Just simply impossible! He is untouchable."

Tom stared at him for a long time, and when he finally spoke, it was with a kind of coldness that became very present in the room.

"As I recall, not long ago you called the nearest gutter pipe home. Could it be that nursing me has taken its toll—has been too much for you, Wormtail? Am I that much of a bother?"

"No, no, of course not, my Lord Voldemort," said Wormtail quickly, and he was now trembling with fear as he moved closer to Tom's chair and knelt down. "I only meant…c-couldn't we just use anyone—to speed up the process? You s-said so yourself that it m-must be the blood of an…an enemy. M-master has many enemies, I remember…perhaps, if we were to do it…_without_ the boy…?"

"No!" hissed Tom, making Wormtail jump backwards. "The boy is everything! It cannot be done without him and it will be done exactly as I said!"

"But s-sir," said Wormtail, who was close to tears.

"Harry Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail," said Tom, boldly. "It is decided. There will be no more argument."

Crouch edged forwards, giving Wormtail a dirty look, and then turned back to Tom and looked him in the eyes determinedly.

"I will not disappoint you, my lord," he said.

"Good," said Tom, finally feeling like he was actually being heard.

He would much rather have had anyone else return rather than Wormtail. But having Crouch here now was the best news he'd had in a long time.

Crouch began to say something but was suddenly interrupted by Nagini's loud hissing as she slithered her way into the room, past the old wooden bed and up to Tom's armchair.

"It is that filthy muggle, sir, he's in the corridor, eavesdropping on every word of your meeting, sire," she hissed.

Tom frowned.

"Nagini tells me that the old muggle caretaker from across the hill is standing just outside the door," he informed his two servants.

At this, Wormtail jumped to his feet and stormed at the door, while Crouch seemed to immediately understand Tom's look and handed him his wand, which had been resting on the little table beside his chair.

"Stand aside, Wormtail," said Tom coolly, who was gripping his wand, "so I can give our guest a _proper_ greeting."

He could almost taste the fear in the air now. How he longed to bite into the man's flesh. Wormtail moved away from the door just in time as a jet of green light—light which Tom had most dearly missed making—shot out of Tom's wand and blasted the old man backwards. Tom's laughter cackled for a few seconds before turning into tired coughs. He wheezed a little bit as Crouch brought a cup of milk to his lips.

"Nagini," said Tom after he'd drunk, "Dinner."

"You are most kind, master," she said, and she quickly slithered over to the dark corridor for it was now _her_ turn to have a little fun.

* * *

Tom awoke in the dead of night with a terrible feeling inside his stomach. His breathing was faster now and he could feel some kind of sweat forming all around him for he was completely soaked in some kind of a nasty liquid. He looked around the room in a sort of panic, his eyes searching frantically for Wormtail. It was several minutes before he remembered that he'd asked him to sleep downstairs for the snoring had bothered his sleeping. Now, Tom was very much regretting that decision.

"Wormtail!" he tried to call out but his voice was very low and hoarse that he doubted there was any chance the little man had heard him. He tried to move but his arms and legs felt much heavier than before. He had no idea what was happening but knew that he needed to get outside soon. Looking around frantically, he finally spotted his wand lying right next to him. He picked it up, pointed it at the corner of the room, and muttered "_Bombarda_". The spell blasted off half the wall, sending floorboards flying everywhere. As anticipated, Wormtail came running at once, a wand clenched in his hand.

"M-m-my lord, is everything alright?" he cried.

"Get me out of here!" hissed Tom. "Take me outside, quickly!"

Wormtail fought his way through the rubble and hastily picked up Tom who was bundled up in the blankets. With a flick of his wand, the rubble moved aside, allowing them to pass through.

"Almost t-there, m-my lord," whimpered Wormtail as he sped down the stairs, holding Tom like a child. Tom's breathing was very hard now and he found himself remembering those many Death Eater parties back from the war. He thought of the food and the drinks and the celebrations of the Malfoys' marriage. He thought of the toasts and the music and all the promises made. It angered him. It made him furious. He knew that once he saw his Death Eaters again, he would have to control himself to avoid killing them all at once. They deserved death. They deserved torture. They deserved to feel every bit of pain that Tom had felt for the last thirteen unbearable years.

The cold night air felt very good against his skin and almost immediately relieved his sweat. Wormtail was huffing and puffing as he moved quickly across the yard, not sure where he was going.

"Slow down!" Tom hissed at him. "I just want a simple walk."

"Y-yes, master," said Wormtail, and he slowed his pace considerably.

"Good," said Tom, who sighed deeply as his breathing returned to normal.

Wormtail walked around the yard for hours, all the time carrying Tom like a bundled up baby. They did not talk but simply walked. Tom's breathing was much easier now and the panicked feeling had escaped him completely. He felt relaxed and, for the first time in a long time, comfortable. Soon, the sun began to rise and Tom decided that it was time to return to the house.

They were somewhat surprised when they finally entered the old sitting room again to find that someone was standing there, waiting for them. But Tom did not panic for he had sensed, even before Wormtail had opened the door, that Crouch had returned.

"What is it?" said Tom as Wormtail led him over to the couch and laid him gently upon it in an odd sitting position. Crouch moved forward and sat on the floor by the foot of the couch, the most recent copy of the _Daily Prophet_ sitting in his lap.

"My lord," he said, eagerly, "My father had me sit in an invisibility cloak at the beginning of the match back at the world cup. My lord, I overheard some ministry workers talking. That auror you mentioned—"

"Alastor Moody," said Tom, coolly.

"Yes," said Crouch. "He is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts."

Tom smiled.

"Yes, I already know," he said. "Bertha told me everything I needed to know. And this is where _you_ come in, junior."

"My lord?"

"You remember the plan we'd discussed a few days ago?"

"Yes, sir, of course."

"I shall require you to persuade Alastor Moody to allow you to take his spot as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"How am I to do that, sir?"

"Find him, curse him—do not kill him. I feel he will not be useful to you dead. No, he must live…at least for now. You must impersonate him for this school year, junior. There is an important event happening at Hogwarts School and I require someone inside the walls."

"I understand," said Crouch after a moment's hesitation.

"The Triwizard Tournament has been an important magical tradition for hundreds of years…the three competing schools—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang—gather to select three champions. These three champions complete three tasks, all to win some ruddy cup."

Wormtail giggled stupidly in the corner.

"I shall require you to enter Harry Potter into the tournament," continued Tom. "And it is crucial that he win it. You must work with him and help him win it."

"My lord?"

"The three tasks have always been changed but the ultimate goal of the last one has not," explained Tom. "It is a well-known fact that in order to complete the tournament, the champions must touch the Triwizard Cup in the last task. I do not know what the task will entail but I feel that Albus Dumbledore will be very open with his dear old friend Moody."

"Yes," said Crouch, slowly.

"You are to transform this cup into a portkey that will then transport the boy here. It is on that night that Wormtail shall perform my resurrection."

Wormtail made another strange little noise from the corner of the room, which both Tom and Crouch ignored. Tom looked Crouch in the eyes.

"This is perhaps the most important job I have ever given to any of my Death Eaters and it is crucial that everything goes well."

"I accept, my lord," said Crouch, confidently.

Tom smiled.

They spent the next couple of days together, planning carefully until they decided that the Polyjuice Potion was their best bet.

"Have you met Alastor Moody before?" Tom asked Crouch who now closed up the dusty old book and set it on the table.

"No, sir," he answered.

"He has a metal leg and a glass eye," said Tom.

Crouch stared at him.

"You will have to make your performance convincing, junior. Have him under the imperius curse at all times and talk to him when you are alone. Find out about his past experiences and his habits. You need to be able to fool even Albus Dumbledore. I am counting on you, junior."

"I will not disappoint you, my lord," Crouch repeated, perhaps for the hundredth time that summer.

Still, these words were very assuring to Tom and he felt hopeful for what was to come in the near future. This could perhaps be his last ever chance at resurrection.

"Oh and junior," said Tom, remembering a little fact he'd overlooked briefly, "You may run into an old friend whilst at Hogwarts...Igor Karkaroff. As I understand it, he is the Durmstrang Headmaster. Do not be too nice to him for when I am resurrected, he _will_ meet his end. But also, do not give yourself away."

"Yes, my lord," said Crouch as an evil grin spread across his face. "It will be my pleasure."

At the end of August, Crouch and Wormtail went to Alastor Moody's house to take him as their hostage. A few hours later, Wormtail returned to Little Hangleton, looking very pleased.

"I take it things went well?" said Tom.

"Crouch is packing up for Hogwarts as we speak," said Wormtail, proudly.

"Very good," said Tom. "I shall also require you to occasionally visit his father's home and check up on him...check that he is still doing as he is told."

"Of course, master," said Wormtail.

As he went to the back room to fetch the last of that week's milk supply, Tom sat back in his chair. Somehow, he could not help but wonder if perhaps Dumbledore would be able to see through this little trick.

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. The cold had swept over the little village and soon, Wormtail was bundling up too before he took Tom out on their little walks about the grounds. Every day, after Tom's morning feeding, Wormtail would leave for an hour and bring back that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. They would read the entire thing at least twice, hoping for news of anything happening at Hogwarts. There was no news of an arrest made with regards to a Hogwarts teacher, so Tom thought it safe to assume that everything had gone smoothly and that Crouch was now residing in what would be Moody's office. He was quite impressed.

It was not until after Halloween that the Prophet finally provided an article of some interest:

_RITA SKEETER INTERVIEWS HARRY POTTER_

_Harry Potter, age 12, is a suspect entrant in the Triwizard Tournament. His eyes are swimming with the ghosts of his past and he's choking back tears as he tells me what persuaded him to enter._

_"I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now…yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it. . . I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…"_

_Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school._

"W-what does this m-mean, my lord?" said Wormtail, who was frowning at the paper now.

"It means," said Tom, who was now smiling violently, "That Harry Potter is a Triwizard champion." He paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "The plan is working."

And so it was that every day was spent the same way—Wormtail feeding Tom Nagini's milk four or five times a day, taking long walks around the yard in the nighttime, and reading and rereading Daily Prophet articles. The next bit of interesting information came as the winter neared. The Prophet stated that Harry Potter, along with the other Triwizard Champions, had successfully completed the first task and was scheduled to participate in the second task in February.

"Everything is working as planned," Tom said conversationally during another one of their long walks.

Wormtail only nodded as he held Tom closely and walked around the graveyard. His face was illuminated in the moonlight and Tom could tell that Wormtail was very nervous and anxious about something.

"Spill it," said Tom, finally. "I hate surprises."

"It's n-nothing, m-my lord," said Wormtail.

"Do not lie to me," said Tom, darkly.

Wormtail gulped nervously.

"It's just that… my lord…I feel a bit…troubled with what you described is required for the…for the…uh…the procedure, sir."

"Indeed?" said Tom, who had not expected this answer at all. "And what part exactly troubles you so?"

"The…" said Wormtail, whose voice was now quivering uncontrollably, "The p-p-p-part about…about the servant's s-s-s-s-sacrifice."

"_Please_ do not stutter, Wormtail, it reminds me too much of that idiot Quirrell," said Tom, who sighed heavily.

"S-sorry," said Wormtail, quietly.

"He was absolutely useless," said Tom, bitterly as Wormtail continued to walk along the snowy graveyard. "Couldn't possibly do anything right."

"W-when did you meet him, sir?" said Wormtail.

"The summer before the school year had started," said Tom, who was now thinking of Quirrell and his purple turban and his pathetic little stutter. "I'm glad he's dead now…that's one less thing for me to do."

"Of course, my lord," said Wormtail, quietly. "Sir," he added after a moment's silence. "W-why have you chosen this location for the procedure?"

Tom frowned at the question and thought for a minute.

"It is the birthplace of my father," he finally answered. "You see his grave, just over there? It is the tallest among the others." Wormtail nodded vigorously. "The bone of my father must be used for the procedure. It is buried there. You will extract it soon enough, won't you Wormtail?"

"Yes, my lord, of course," he replied.

"Wormtail," said Tom after another moment's silence. "What was junior put in Azkaban for, exactly? I don't recall they had any particular evidence of his association with me."

"Crouch?" said Wormtail. Tom nodded against his bundle of blankets. "He and Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange sought you after you disappeared. They looked in all the places they could think of but they didn't know exactly what they were looking for—see, no one knew what had happened to you or what you looked like, sir. So they decided to pursue the Longbottoms."

"The Longbottoms," repeated Tom, remembering the night Snape had come to him with the news of the prophecy and Tom's decision that he would go after the Potters, not the Longbottoms.

"Yes, sir," said Wormtail. "Well, they tortured them for information. They thought perhaps Frank and Alice knew something about what had happened to you."

"And Crouch too?" said Tom.

"Yes, sir, he initiated the Crucio," said Wormtail.

"Interesting," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"His own father sent him to Azkaban," Wormtail added.

"I see," said Tom. "And the Longbottoms?"

"They survived, my lord."

"Not well, I presume?"

"No," agreed Wormtail, who was now circling back towards the Riddle House over the hill. "They have been at St. Mungo's ever since."

"Thought so," said Tom. "I'm very impressed with the Lestranges and with Junior. Though, I always knew _they_ were loyal."

Wormtail gulped nervously again.

"M-master, I have a-a-always been l-loyal—loyal to betray the o-o-order and join y-you!"

"Do not make a fool of yourself, Wormtail," said Tom. "You came back because your school friends would have your neck otherwise."

"M-master, p-p-please!" cried Wormtail, who was now surely going to start sobbing, "I s-swear it. I have a-always been on your side!"

"Tell me," said Tom, who was half bored and half amused, "If Black had not escaped Azkaban to come after you, and if he and Lupin did not threaten to kill you in that shack, how long would you have stayed hidden as a rat for, while I was left to rot in that ruddy forest?"

Wormtail's tears were coming down quickly now and he held Tom closer to him in a kind of hug.

"I am s-sorry, my lord, so very s-s-sorry!" he wailed.

"That's enough, Wormtail," said Tom, lazily. "Take me back inside the house."

The rest of the walk was thankfully silent, with the exception of Wormtail whimpering every couple of seconds.

By the time the second task of the Triwizard Tournament was reported on—and the results revealed that the Potter boy was still headed for victory—Wormtail had nearly filled Tom in on the whereabouts of every single one of his main Death Eaters.

"_I know _what Severus has been doing," said Tom, who was a little annoyed now. "I was also at Hogwarts three years ago, Wormtail."

"Of course, my lord," said Wormtail, quickly and he brought another cup of milk to Tom's lips. "I'd forgotten, my lord."

It was a cool Saturday morning in February and they were in the sitting room. Nagini was playing with something upstairs and whispering about Crystal Cave. Tom ignored her and listened to Wormtail's rant about Snape's achievements in almost getting Potter expelled from Hogwarts for using underage magic, back in the boy's second year.

"That is all I know," Wormtail concluded.

"What of the Malfoys?" said Tom, who was growing impatient with Wormtail's stupidity.

"Lucius works in the Ministry," said Wormtail, knowledgably, though it was nothing Tom didn't already know. "His son goes to school with Potter and they are rivals."

"Naturally," said Tom.

"But Lucius has kept up his pureblood claims, my lord," Wormtail added. "He proudly states in public that he believes muggleborns have no business studying magic."

"So he has not renounced my teachings…only me," said Tom, slowly.

"It seems so, my lord," said Wormtail, who seemed a bit proud of this fact. "Oh!" he jumped in his seat. "I almost forgot—Walden Macnair, you remember him—he works at the ministry now too."

"I remember Macnair all too well," said Tom, recalling his sighting of Macnair in Knockturn Alley just a few weeks after Tom had lost everything.

"I don't know and don't care," Macnair had said when Borgin asked him where Tom was.

Tom distinctly remembered those exact words and he remembered his vow to himself that he would not let Macnair off for that.

"What does he do?" he asked Wormtail now.

"He is an executioner, my lord," said Wormtail, quickly. "He was s-sent to execute Hagrid's buckbeak….Hippogriff was his name, I think. It was that very night that I encountered Black and escaped his attack."

Tom closed his eyes and tried very hard to control his temper. He so wanted to kill Wormtail right there and then. It would provide him with the most joy he'd had in years. The man had just gotten on his nerves a tad too far this time.

"You need him," hissed Nagini's voice, startling Tom a bit.

She had slithered her way into the room and was now at the foot of the couch, looking up at Tom.

"I know," Tom replied, through gritted teeth. "Come here, my beauty, so I can see you."

Nagini moved up on the couch and settled herself near Tom.

"We're almost there," Tom hissed to her, "Almost."

The following week however, Wormtail returned from his visit to Crouch's house, full of tears. He dropped to the floor and bowed low as he continued to sob.

"JUST TELL ME!" cried Tom, with the most energy he could muster. "WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"C-c-c-c-c-crouch esc-c-caaped, my lord," wailed Wormtail.

Tom stared at him, trying to make meaning of these words.

But how could Crouch have escaped? He'd been under the imperius curse! And as though he'd read his mind, Wormtail hastily added, "He learned to fight the c-c-curse, m-m-my lord!"

Tom glared down at him.

"Alert junior immediately," he instructed.

Wormtail bowed his head again and then left the house. He returned an hour later, looking a little less frightened than before.

"Well?" said Tom, restlessly. "Did you tell him to get rid of his father by any means necessary?"

"He s-s-said he will t-t-take care of it, sir," said Wormtail in a small voice.

Tom sighed heavily.

"Another mistake like this and I shall feed you to my snake."

He felt a surprising little tinge at repeating these exact words which he'd last spoken to Lestrange, his old school friend.

As the days began to get slightly warmer with spring nearing, Tom took it upon himself to go over the procedure with Wormtail every single day, so that Wormtail was sure to know exactly how it ought to go, since it was nearing so quickly and Wormtail was far from bright. They continued with their long nightly walks, sometimes taking afternoon walks as well, and Tom repeated the procedure over and over again.

"Bone of the father," said Wormtail, "Blood of the enemy, and f-f-flesh of t-the s-s-servant."

"Good," said Tom. "Very good. You will need to leave me in a few weeks' time to go out and get a cauldron. Do you think you can manage that, Wormtail?"

"Y-yes, my lord," said Wormtail, who now looked distraught.

Tom sighed happily and looked up at the shining afternoon sun.

"How I long to see the boy," he said in barely more than a whisper. "How I long to be close to him so that he could whimper like you so often do, Wormtail."

"Yes, sir," said Wormtail, nervously.

"The boy is everything," said Tom. "He is everything. And I shall terminate him soon enough."

"M-m-my lord," said Wormtail, who was now screwing up the courage to speak. "You may recall that I…h-had some c-concerns r-r-regarding a s-specific p-p-part of the procedure…"

"Yes, I recall," said Tom, frowning up at Wormtail now. "I realise my powers have been stripped from me but my memory is perfectly fine, _Wormtail_."

"Yes of course, my lord, I didn't mean anything by it, my lord," said Wormtail quickly. "I only meant…" he sighed. "My lord…f-f-flesh of the s-s-servant. I d-don't f-f-feel too good a-about that particular part."

"I shall only require a hand," said Tom, simply. "Can't you sacrifice that much for your master? Haven't you always been on my side? Aren't you my so-called 'most loyal servant', Wormtail?"

Wormtail gulped loudly.

"M-m-my lord, I—"

"You will not disobey me," said Tom. And just as Wormtail opened his mouth again to speak, he added "End of discussion."

Wormtail did not speak of the matter again.

In fact, the next time he spoke to Tom willingly was a few days later when he brought back the Daily Prophet with a small smile.

"News?" said Tom.

"The third task is scheduled for June 24, my lord," said Wormtail.

"That is next week," said Tom, coolly, though he could not quite suppress the excitement.

It was so near now—his bright, sparkling future. He could practically feel himself reaching out and grasping it. Nagini also could not seem to contain her excitement at this news, for Tom had already promised her that after he was done with Harry Potter, she could have him as a reward for her loyalty.

Strangely, on June 24, Tom found himself unable to think of anything but his Horcruxes. He thought carefully of each one in its hiding spot. He wondered silently why he had not felt anything when the diary had been destroyed two years ago. It contained a piece of his soul, after all. Would he not have had to have felt something? He searched his memory, going back to all those lonesome days in the forest, but could not pinpoint a single moment when he'd felt a strange sort of pain. It was simply nonexistent. This was most peculiar. After all these years and after all he had accomplished, magic still managed to surprise him at times.

By nightfall, Tom instructed Wormtail to slowly start heading for the graveyard. Surely, Potter would be arriving any moment now. Wormtail had been particularly quiet all day and remained quiet as he picked Tom up, covered him in a long black cloak which he had brought for the occasion, pocketed his dagger, and set out for the graveyard, with Nagini slithering happily at his feet.

* * *

**Small explanation: I realise that some of the events do not coincide exactly with the book. That is because I did a mixture of the book's account and the movie's, since I liked both equally. I tried to fit it as best as I could. I am of course talking about the whole Crouch thing. It took quite a bit of research and I realise Voldemort and Wormtail stayed with Senior at his house with Winky for that time that he was held hostage until he escaped and then they sent a message to junior to stop him from talking to Dumbledore. I changed this up a bit because I wanted to include the movie versions from Harry's dreams at the beginning. anyway, all the same important events still happen so hopefully you still enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to review! **

**PS. the next chapter will also be a mixture of the book's account and the movie's **


	34. Priori Incantatem

**Author's Note: Hey readers! Hope your week is good! Here is the chapter detailing Tom's rebirth, a long conversation with the Death Eaters who returned, and his long-awaited duel with Harry Potter. It is no secret what happens of course, but I decided to combine moments from the book and the movie and I cut out a lot and added some of my own. I really hope you enjoy, even though it is very similar to what we have already read/seen, but that's what you have when writing completely canon. Also, Nagini's commentary cracked me up, so I hope you get the same effect. **

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...Wormtail had been particularly quiet all day and remained quiet as he picked Tom up, covered him in a long black cloak which he had brought for the occasion, pocketed his dagger, and set out for the graveyard, with Nagini slithering happily at his feet..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 34: PRIORI INCANTATEM**

"He is not here yet, master," said Wormtail as he looked around the property nervously.

"He will come soon," said Tom, who was feeling very eager tonight.

Wormtail walked around the field, carrying Tom like a child again. The night sky was clear and starless and the air was relatively cool. Nagini slithered away from Wormtail, no doubt going to check the graveyard again. Wormtail stood at the center of the lawn by the Riddle House and shuddered. He put the hood of his cloak on so that it covered his rat-like face and placed one hand in his pocket while he held Tom with the other hand.

"M-master," he tried again, "W-will you replace m-m-my arm, m-master?"

"Yes," said Tom, a little annoyed.

"Y-y-you p-promise?" said Wormtail, who was again on the verge of tears.

"Get a grip on yourself, idiot," snapped Tom.

Wormtail stifled a sob and continued to walk about the lawn.

"You remember the procedure?" said Tom after several silent minutes.

"F-f-f-flesh, blood, a-a-and b-b-bone," repeated Wormtail.

"Good," said Tom. "I will reward you, Wormtail. You know I will."

"T-t-thank y-you, m-m-m-master."

Suddenly, there was a loud swishing noise from afar. Nagini slithered back over to the house very quickly.

"He has come, my lord! And he is not alone!" she hissed. "There is another boy with him!"

"Let's go, Wormtail," said Tom, and they set off for the graveyard.

Wormtail walked steadily towards the two boys standing between the graves in the darkness. He stopped beside the towering, marble headstone of Tom Riddle. The boy's wand suddenly slipped from his fingers as he brought his hand to his scar and shouted out in pain. He was now on the ground, and the older boy was standing alongside him, looking at him nervously.

"Kill the spare," Tom instructed Wormtail.

Wormtail raised a slightly shaking hand and pointed his wand at the older boy.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

There was a blinding flash of green light that blasted the boy backwards.

"Hurry up!" hissed Tom and Wormtail quickly directed his wand at the boy who was now vomiting in the grass. The boy was pulled to his feet, dragged to the marble headstone, and slammed against it. Next, tight chords were conjured and tied themselves around him from neck to ankle. Wormtail gently laid Tom and his bundle of robes in the grass and then went to check the security of the boy's ropes. The boy seemed to be struggling to free himself and Wormtail hit him hard in the stomach to stop his fighting.

_"You!"_ Tom heard the boy gasp, but Wormtail, who had finished with the ropes, did not reply. He seemed to be trembling uncontrollably as he fumbled over the knots of the ropes. Once sure that the boy was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of the black material from inside of his robe and stuffed it roughly inside the boy's mouth to keep him quiet. Then, he hurried away.

Nagini had come back with them and was now circling the headstone and hissing quite loudly. Tom did not bother listening to her words and simply waited as Wormtail, whose breathing was now fast and wheezy, pushed the stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of water that slopped around. Tom stirred. He was aching to get inside already, but did not have the strength to move on his own. He waited impatiently as Wormtail busied himself at the bottom of the cauldron with his wand. Suddenly, there were crackling flames beneath it. Nagini slithered away into the darkness, muttering something about "The Dark Lord will rise tonight—Nagini can't wait!"

The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast as the surface began to bubble and send out fiery sparks, as though it was on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. Tom grew very agitated and stirred some more. The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now.

"Hurry!" he cried, impatiently.

The time was very close now. Thirteen years of waiting were finally about to pay off. He was going to be resurrected tonight. It was inevitable. Tonight he would finally return. Finally, at last!

"Hurry!" he repeated in a slightly louder voice.

"It is ready, master!" said Wormtail finally.

"Do it, now!" hissed Tom.

Wormtail knelt down beside him and pulled open the robes on the ground, exposing Tom completely. The boy let out a muffled yell as Wormtail lifted Tom from the ground and carried him to the cauldron. Tom raised his thin and feeble arms and put them around Wormtail's neck. As he did so, Wormtail's hood fell back, revealing his weak, pale face in the firelight. And then, Wormtail lowered Tom into the cauldron. There was a hiss as Tom vanished into the liquid in the darkness of the cauldron. His thin, frail body hit the bottom with a light thud. It was strange to sit in water and not drown. Tom waited, listening to Wormtail's voice above.

"Bone of the father unknowingly given—you will renew your son."

There was what sounded like a loud crack—no doubt from the extracting of the bone from the grave. Seconds later, there was a loud sizzling as the bone was dropped into the cauldron. Tom instantly felt it collide with him and start to force its way into his very skin. The water seemed to be pushing the bone hard and soon, Tom felt muscles growing.

"F-f-f-flesh of the s-s-servant," said Wormtail's whimpering voice from above, "W-w-w-willingly g-given—you will r-r-revive your m-master."

Wormtail's hand drooped into the water, followed by his shriek of agony. Tom's vision was instantly blurred by a pool of red swirling all around him. He felt a kind of sizzling sensation and then warmth against his newborn skin.

"A-a-and blood of the enemy f-forcibly t-t-taken—you will resurrect your f-f-foe."

Something trickled into the water and everything suddenly became hot and white. The bubbles of the water were bursting uncontrollably and pushing and shoving Tom all around the cauldron. He felt as though he was being sliced over and over again. Tom suddenly felt his breathing grow easier—much easier than it had been in years. He was able to rise without the help of another. He was able to think more freely and to feel and smell and taste and hear.

"Robe me!" he called out to Wormtail. His eyes were closed for he was not yet ready to take in what had happened. He felt soft material pulled over his head and slide down to his legs. Tall and thin, he stepped out of the cauldron and finally opened his eyes. He knew they were red because they were burning like they had before, back when he'd still had his powers. He brought his long white fingers to his face and began to caress his features. They were skeletal and livid. His nose was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils, like before. His eyes gleamed brightly through the darkness. Ignoring Wormtail's squirming in the corner, Tom held up his hands and flexed the fingers.

"Master, you're back!" Nagini was hissing at his feet, though he took no notice of her. She slithered around him once and then returned to his father's grave and began to circle it.

Tom took a few steps, enjoying the feeling of his new legs. He was barefooted and could feel every bit of the earth beneath him. The cool of the soft wind was very nice against his skin and his black robes flowed as he walked. Soon, he was standing just before Wormtail and let out a soft and very quiet chuckle.

"My wand, Wormtail."

His voice was very cold, high, and intricate—so very different from what he'd had in his rudimentary form.

Wormtail handed him his wand and Tom took hold of the delicate thing and caressed it tenderly.

"My lord," choked Wormtail. "You p-promised. You did promise."

"Hold out your arm," said Tom, lazily.

"Oh master, thank you, master!"

Wormtail held out the bleeding socket that was his arm. Tom then took notice of the fact that Wormtail's robes were completely soaked and drenched in his blood. But there was something that interested Tom even more. He felt offended even that Wormtail had assumed he would take care of him first.

"The other arm, Wormtail!" he snapped suddenly.

Wormtail's face grew very red with fright and anxiousness.

"Oh master, please, please!"

"Please!" Nagini repeated in mockery.

But Tom was not interested in Wormtail's pleas and simply forced the sleeves of Wormtail's good arm up and examined the black of the Dark Mark which was now writhing with excitement against his skin.

"Now we shall see," he murmured as he pressed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark. "Now we shall know."

Tom straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he said in a Parseltongue hiss.

"And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?" added Nagini with a kind of snort.

"Indeed," said Tom as he began to pace up and down, his eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, several wizards apparated, hooded and masked. Tom wondered for a moment why they had bothered with the masks, but then remembered Wormtail's tale about how they'd adapted the masks for the purposes of concealing themselves. They feared Tom more than ever now. Oh, the irony of it.

Tom stood in silence, waiting for them as they moved forwards, slowly and cautiously, making a kind of circle before the gravestone of his father. The formation was in the order of their pledged allegiance to him, and there were several gaps in the circle where the missing ones would be. Tom looked around at the hooded faces.

"Welcome, my Death Eaters," he announced in a tone of mockery. "Thirteen years it's been, and yet here you stand before me as though it were only yesterday. It is a disappointment to me." He stopped to sniff the cold of the night's air. "Smell the guilt? I do. There is a stench of guilt upon the air." He paused and stared around at each and every one of his main Death Eaters—the ones that had bothered to show up, that is. "I see you all whole and healthy with your powers intact, such prompt appearances. And I ask myself, _why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?_ And I answer myself; _they must have believed me broken_. They thought I was gone." He paused again and glared at them all, one by one. "They slipped back among my enemies and pleaded innocence and ignorance and bewitchment." Several of the wizards shifted uncomfortably at this. "And then I ask myself, _but how could they have believed I would not rise again?_ They who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living. And I answer myself; _perhaps they believed still a greater power could exist—one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort_." Tom paused and a sneer crossed his face. He could not even suppress a laugh at the ridiculous thought that had now crossed his mind. "Perhaps," he said, in a slightly louder voice, "they now pay allegiance to another. Perhaps that champion of commons, of mudbloods, and of muggles—_Albus Dumbledore_."

The members of the circle stirred and some even dared to mutter or shake their heads in protest of this allegation.

"No?" said Tom in a mock surprise. "So you still care about me then?" His glare suddenly became more furious and he spoke his next words in a very quiet voice. "I confess myself disappointed."

"Let me slit one of their throats!" hissed Nagini from some distance away, but Tom ignored her. "Nagini hungry! Nagini smells blood! Nagini wants to taste!"

One of the men suddenly flung himself forwards, breaking the circle. Shaking from head to foot, he collapsed at Tom's feet and Tom glared down upon him, remembering him exactly as he had been before—remembering his stutter at the beginning, remembering his eagerness and dullness and stupidity and naivety, remembering his immaturity and amateurishness, remembering all those late night trophy room meetings and Hogwarts Express rides and Hogsmeade trips. . .

"Master!" he now cried, "Forgive me…forgive us all!"

Tom began to laugh his familiar cold laugh. So _now_ he wanted forgiveness? Just like that? After thirteen years, he simply expected him to be merciful. He lay there, at Tom's feet, completely and shamefully ignorant, just like he had been back in their school days. Well, if he still didn't get the message now, perhaps a dose of pain…

"Crucio," said Tom simply, and the Death Eater writhed and shrieked suddenly. Tom only lifted the curse after a full minute and watched the Death Eater as he lay upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Avery," said Tom, finally. "Stand up; you ask for forgiveness. I do not forgive. I do not forget." Avery scrambled to his feet and stood before Tom, his head bowed low. "Thirteen long years. I want thirteen years repayment before I forgive you." Tom paused, and then waved his hand in front of Avery's face, forcibly pulling off his mask. Avery fell to his knees with shock at the sudden movement. Tom was disgusted with him. He turned to look at the other Death Eaters and moved towards one in particular… one whom he had been longing to speak to for ages.

"Not one of you tried to find me," he said aloud to the others as he approached this particular Death Eater. "Not one of my most trusted, most supposedly loyal followers—not even you, _Lucius_." He forced his mask off and Lucius too fell to his knees before Tom.

"My lord!" he whispered in a kind of panicky but hoarse voice, "Had I detected any signs or a whisper of your whereabouts—"

"There were signs, my slippery friend!" said Tom, angrily. "And _more_ than whispers."

"Damn right!" hissed Nagini.

"I assure you, I have _never _renounced the old ways," said Lucius who now rose again and pulled off his hood so that he was facing Tom most confidently.

"Oh, I know that," said Tom, no doubt surprising him. "Wormtail tells me you present to the world a respectable face though still openly state that you are ready to take the lead in a spot of muggle torture. Yet, if you have not renounced the old ways, then you have renounced _me?_"

"Never!" hissed Lucius Malfoy. "I was constantly on the alert. Nothing could have prevented me from returning to you if I could only have found you!"

"And yet," said Tom, conversationally, "You ran from my mark that the faithful Death Eater sent into the sky last summer?" Lucius' face grew as white as his long hair. Tom smiled. "Oh yes, I know all about that, Lucius. You have disappointed me." He paused, trying to decide whether he should torture Lucius as well. Then, he remembered that Lucius had a son. It would be even more satisfying to torture _him_ right before Lucius' eyes, as punishment. Tom sighed. "I expect more faithful service in future, Lucius."

"Of course, my lord, of course," said Lucius quickly, "You are most merciful. Thank you."

Tom moved on and stopped to stare at the space between Malfoy and Rowle.

"The Lestranges should be here," he said aloud, thinking of the rewards he would present them with when they were reunited. "But they are in Azkaban. _They_ are faithful. _They_ went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honoured _beyond their dreams._" He paused and smiled to himself. "The Dementors will join us. They are our natural allies." He turned to look at the rest of the group. "We will also recall the banished giants. I shall have all my devoted servants return to me and form an army of creatures who all fear."

He walked on, stopping before that sleazy Macnair who stood, just like the rest, with his mask and his hooded cloak and his head bowed.

"Oh, _please_ let me bite into him!" Nagini hissed excitedly. "_Please_, Tommy boy, _please!"_

"Just a little longer, Nagini," said Tom, softly, and he turned to look at Macnair.

"Welcome back, _friend_," he said bitterly, throwing off Macnair's mask and kicking him to the ground.

"Please!" Macnair gasped.

"_Don't know and don't care_," said Tom, in a tone of mockery, "_Those_ were the exact words, I believe."

Macnair crawled forwards and began to kiss the hem of Tom's black robes.

"Master, please!"

"But Wormtail tells me you have been destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now," continued Tom. He looked down at Macnair and frowned. Torturing him might falter his ability to continue his work, and Tom was sure that the future would show need of it.

"You shall have better victims than that, soon enough," he concluded. "Lord Voldemort will provide."

"Thank you, master, thank you," said Macnair in a low voice.

"And here," said Tom, as he moved on to the two largest figures in the group, "We have Crabbe. You will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"

"Yes, master, we will, master," they murmured in unison.

"The same goes for you, Nott," said Tom, without even looking in his direction.

"My lord, I am your most faithful—"

"That will do," said Tom.

He reached the largest gap in the circle and stood, staring at it. One part of his mind was doing the math and the other was placing images of the faces side by side.

"And here," he said aloud to the group, "We have seven missing Death Eaters—three dead in my service...Hmmm...yes, Rosier too...and one too cowardly to return..._Karkaroff_.._he_ will pay of course, and one who I believe has left me forever. He will be killed of course. And…oh yes, the one who remains my most faithful servant and who has already re-entered his service." Tom pursed his lips and began to caress his wand again. "He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that I was able to be revived tonight."

"M-m-master," said Wormtail, suddenly. "M-master, w-w-what about m-m-me? I returned…?"

Tom spun around and glared at Wormtail.

"Out of _fear_," he corrected, "Not loyalty."

Wormtail began to sob again and together, he and Tom looked down upon the bleeding socket that was Wormtail's arm.

"You deserve this pain, Wormtail, you know that, don't you?" said Tom, quietly.

"Yes, master," said Wormtail, whimpering.

"Yet you helped me return to my body," Tom observed. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me." He stepped towards him. "And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers."

In a swift and slow movement, Tom raised his wand and flicked it. A streak of silver erupted from the tip of the wand and formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight. It soared downwards and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist. He raised his head and stared with disbelief at his hand.

"My lord!" he cried and suddenly, his tears were not of pain and agony, but of shock and excitement and relief, "Master, it is beautiful! Thank you, thank you!"

He suddenly dropped to his knees and, like Macnair, kissed the hem of Tom's robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," said Tom, quietly.

"No, my lord, _never,_ my lord!" exclaimed Wormtail, and with Tom's blessing, he stood up and took his place in the circle.

Tom suddenly spotted a limp body lying sprawled on the grass just a few feet away. He slowly walked towards it and shifted the dirty face with his foot to get a better look.

"Oh," he said, quietly, feigning pity, "Such a handsome boy."

"Don't touch him!" grunted a voice from his left. Tom looked up in surprise and his gleaming red eyes immediately found the source of it.

* * *

"Harry!" he exclaimed, taking in the sight of the boy struggling against the rope tying him to the gravestone. Tom's eyes darted down to the piece of black material lying on the ground nearby, which was no doubt where the boy had spat it. The boy's wand lay not too far from it. Tom frowned for a split second, wondering how much time had passed since he'd been resurrected.

"I'd almost forgotten you were here," he said, conversationally, as he now moved closer to the boy, "You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father…a muggle and a fool." The boy struggled against the ropes again but Tom merely laughed his cruel laugh. "Very like your dear mother, no? And they both certainly had their uses, did they not?" The boy glared at him, which caused Tom to laugh again. He had dreamt of saying these words for over thirteen years. "Your mother died to defend you as a child, and I killed my father. See how useful he has proven himself in death." He laughed again and slowly paced around the circle. "Oh yes, useful indeed." Tom stopped suddenly, and pointed at the Riddle House in the distance, over the darkened cliff. "You see that house upon the hillside, Harry? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in the village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. He didn't like magic, my father. He left her and returned to his muggle parents before I was even born. And she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a muggle orphanage." Tom sneered. "But I vowed to find him. I took revenge of course against that filthy muggle fool who gave me his pathetic name, _Tom Riddle_…" Tom frowned and then gave a little chuckle. "Listen to me, reliving family history. Why, I'm growing quite sentimental. But Harry, you must understand. You are, after all, the Boy Who Lived, are you not?"

Tom drew himself right up to the boy so that their faces were inches away from each other. His red eyes glared at the emerald green ones and he sneered again.

"Oh how lies have fed your legend, Harry!" he said. "Shall I reveal what really happened that night, thirteen years ago? Shall I divulge in how I truly lost my powers?"

The boy struggled again and Tom moved away from him and into the center of the circle of Death Eaters as he now addressed them.

"It was _love_," he said. "You see, when dear sweet Lily Potter gave her life for her only son, she provided the ultimate protection, which meant that I could not touch him!"

The Death Eaters exchanged some looks and Tom nodded.

"Oh yes, shocking isn't it?" he said as he began to pace the circle. "I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice and it rebounded upon me." He paused, remembering the night as though it were truly only yesterday. He remembered every crucial detail—every single bit of it. "Pain beyond pain, my friends. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body. I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost, but still, _I was alive_."

He turned to look at the boy now and directed his story at him, as a father would tell his son a bedtime story.

"It _is_ a bedtime story, in a way," hissed Nagini as she slithered cleverly into the circle. "He _will _go to sleep tonight, won't he? _Forever_, I might add."

Tom ignored her, for this was far too important.

"What I was, even I do not know," he continued. "I, who have gone further than anybody upon the path that leads to immortality... But now I was tested. And it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it." He now thought of his Horcruxes, picturing each one in its hiding place. When an image of the diary came before him, he glared in Lucius' direction. Sensing this, Lucius bowed his head again and Tom turned back to the boy. "Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive and without the means to help myself for I had no body and every spell which might have helped me required the use of a wand."

The boy struggled against the ropes again and let out a few grunts and yells. Tom smiled.

"I only remember forcing myself, sleeplessly and endlessly, second by second, to exist. I settled myself in a distant forest. Thirteen years I waited, but it was all in vain. Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where humans were plentiful for I knew that the aurors were still abroad and searching for me." He paused, looking around the circle again. "I possessed the bodies of animals—snakes of course being the preference—but my possession shortened their lives. None of them lasted long. I returned with the help of a gullible fool 4 years ago, but he too did not last long and failed to help me steal the Philosopher's Stone. I was not to be assured of immortal life. I was thwarted—thwarted once again by Harry Potter."

Tom glared at the boy grunting and crying against the gravestone, fighting to pull himself free of the robes.

"Harry Potter," Tom repeated. "They call him my downfall. You could say that he is the guest of honor here tonight, at my rebirthing party." The Death Eaters smirked and laughed quietly amongst themselves. "Do you all like my plan? It has worked most successfully, has it not? My faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, has ensured the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. He ensured that the boy won the tournament—that he touched the Triwizard cup first…the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a portkey which would bring him here…beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection and into my waiting arms."

The Death Eaters' laughter was now growing louder with excitement.

"How was it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent was able to defeat me, you ask?" Tom continued. He was now smiling too. "Why, his mother left upon him the traces of her foolish sacrifice. It was old magic—something I should have foreseen, I admit. But no matter, no matter. Things have changed and I, Lord Voldemort, can touch him now."

And with that, Tom flung himself forwards, reached a finger and hit the boy's scar with it.

The shriek pierced through the darkness of the night, overpowering the laughter of the Death Eaters. Tom was beginning to yell too, though in a manner of victory rather than anything else. He felt a powerful surge overwhelming him. He felt his finger on the boy's scar burning, not from pain, but from glory. After several long seconds, he finally removed his hand and glared up at the boy.

"Astonishing what a few drops of your blood will do, eh Harry?" he said, smirking.

A rage of fury was beginning to overwhelm him now and he frowned.

"You call this _thing_ here my downfall, do you?" he said aloud to the other Death Eaters, though he kept his back to them and continued to glare up at the boy. "But make no mistake of this. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance and I am going to prove my power to you by killing him…here and now, where there is no mother to die for him and no _Dumbledore_ to help him."

The boy started to say something but Tom moved away in a sudden movement and flicked his wand in the air, causing the ropes to release the boy at once. The boy stumbled to the floor in shock and, instinctively, the Death Eaters hurried out of the way to watch.

"Pick up your wand, Potter!" yelled Tom, who was now feeling very angry. He would, at long last, show the world how truly wrong it had been in assuming that the Dark Lord could be conquered by anyone, much less a pathetic nobody. "I said, pick it up! Go on, get up!"

The boy reached for his wand, which lay upon the grass near the grave, and slowly got to his feet, though he did not point it at Tom but merely stood, looking as frightened as all of Tom's victims did in the last few minutes of their lives.

"You have been taught to duel, I presume, yes?" said Tom, eagerly. "First, we bow to each other." He glanced over at Nagini, winked, and then—to the horror of his audience—he bowed low to his nemesis. He waited a few seconds and then looked up to find that the boy was staring at him with both confusion and fear.

"Come now, Harry, the niceties must be observed!" said Tom, simply. "Dumbledore wouldn't want you to forget your manners, would he? I said,_ bow!"_

He pointed his wand at the boy who squirmed in pain as he was forced to bow by the imperius curse.

"That's better, now!" shouted Tom as the laughter of the Death Eaters grew louder.

_"Crucio!"_

The boy fell to the floor and began to shout and shriek in pain as he trembled and writhed upon the grass.

"Won't you beg me to kill you yet?" yelled Tom, who was now laughing openly. "Won't you beg me to end it for you yet? Come now; say the words, Harry Potter: _Kill me, Lord Voldemort. Make it stop. Kill me now, kill me!"_

"NO!" shouted the boy.

Tom froze and the curse was lifted at once.

The boy rolled in the grass, his eyes rolling in their sockets and his breathing loud and heavy.

"No?" said Tom softly, who was very interested in this new objection. "Perhaps another dosage of pain then?"

The next round had the boy shrieking so loudly that his voice eventually died away. The Death Eaters laughed like they hadn't laughed in years. It was almost as though they were back at the wedding celebration of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy once again. When Tom finally lifted the curse, the boy lay in the grass with tears streaming down his eyes. Tom moved forwards and knelt down beside him so that he could meet his eyes.

"I am going to kill you, _Harry Potter_," he said in a low, soft voice. "I am going to _destroy_ you. After tonight, no one will _ever again_ question my powers. After tonight, _if _they speak of you, they'll speak _only_ of how you _begged_ for death, and I, being the merciful lord…obliged."

He then jumped up and flicked his wand again, forcing the boy to his feet as well. Now he would show everyone. Now they would duel and now, his Death Eaters would find out which was the better wizard. Tom walked towards the gravestone of his father to make some distance between himself and the boy. However, when he turned around, he glimpsed the boy hide behind another tombstone, and in a violent rage of anger, Tom shouted a curse at him which caused a chunk of the tombstone to break apart.

"DON'T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, HARRY POTTER! I WANT YOU TO _LOOK AT ME_ WHEN I KILL YOU! I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES!"

Tom waited, all the while pointing his wand at the space where the boy had hidden. Finally, the boy got to his feet and turned around to face Tom. For a moment, they stood, staring at each other through the misty darkness. And then, quite suddenly, the boy shouted _Expelliarmus_ and Tom shouted _Avada Kedavra. _

A jet of green light issued from Tom's wand just as a red light blasted from the boy's. They met in midair and suddenly, Tom's wand was vibrating. A narrow beam of light was now connecting the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright deep blue. Shimmering sparks of light shot out of the beam as it splintered. Tom stared around, confused. The curse had never before had that effect.

Tom could hear his Death Eaters shouting for instructions, but it was as though they were from a very far away distance. On the contrary however, they were closing in, reforming the circle around Tom and the boy, with Nagini slithering at their heels. Some of them, to Tom's horror, even dared to draw out their wands.

"_DO NOTHING!_" Tom bellowed at them. "HE'S _MINE_ TO FINISH!"

But the vibrating of his wand was so powerful now that he could almost feel in grasping from his fingers. His long-fingered hands gripped it harder and he tried to suppress the astonishment in his eyes as he fought to break the thread of light connecting the wands. He surveyed the misty darkness in front of him and found that the boy too looked surprised beyond anything. So whatever was happening, the boy had not intended it.

The bright blue light now started to form a web around the two. It was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands. Tom felt his wand shudder angrily and he yelled out loud. The wand was growing hotter beneath his fingers, as though about to burst into flame. He was starting to fear that for the first time it might break on him. But he could not understand it. It had never failed him before, so why now?

Tom forced all of his concentration on the boy—on trying to direct the beads of light travelling up and down the thread towards him. But out of the corner of his eye, Tom spotted Lucius Malfoy moving closer with his wand raised in the air.

"HE'S _MINE!"_ Tom yelled at the top of his lungs, and Lucius froze.

Suddenly, to Tom's great horror, his wand began to emit screams and shouts of pain and agony. His red eyes widened with shock as a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of his wand and vanished into the thin air—the ghost of the hand he had made for Wormtail. Seconds later, there were more shouts of pain and then, a great grayish something began to force itself out of the vibrating wand until it broke free and settled itself up in the air just above but inside the web of light connecting Tom and the boy. Tom gazed up at the figure and recognised it immediately as the spare he had killed only moments ago. It took several seconds for Tom to realise that the ghost of this boy was talking to Potter, though Tom could not hear a single word of it. Suddenly, his wand repeated its strange behavior from a moment ago and Frank Bryce, the nosy muggle caretaker, flew out and landed up in the air, not far from the ghostly boy. He too, began to speak to Potter.

Bertha Jorkins came out next, bringing a new shattering vibration to the wand between Tom's slippery fingers. He yelled again, trying to break free from the connection between his wand and the boy's. But then, as though in response to his yell, two silvery blue lights erupted from his wand like cannonballs and settled themselves on either side of the boy. Tom did not need to squint through the darkness to recognise them as the boy's dead parents. They too, were talking to him, shouting instructions Tom could not make sense of. The wand began slipping and sliding beneath his fingers and he held it tighter, refusing to be unarmed.

As though in an effort to distract Tom, Bertha Jorkins suddenly appeared before him and began to wail and sob, just as she had in the last few seconds of her life. The muggle did the same and so did the ghostly boy. They each mocked their own death scenes, replaying them right before Tom's very eyes. He looked over at the boy and found that he was puzzled, no doubt unable to hear what Tom was hearing. The screams and the shouts flooded Tom's ears and it was all he could hear—the shouts of his Death Eaters were completely drowned now. Visions of that night, thirteen years ago, were appearing before him now. He saw himself hiding under the bench again, watching the horrific scene of his Death Eaters being rounded up by aurors—the Lestranges shouting and laughing cruelly, mothers wailing at the sights of their dead children, and ministry workers shouting angrily.

And then, the bright blue thread broke, the web vanished, and Tom glimpsed the boy one last time before everything became a solid white. All sound and sight was drained out. It was as though Tom had been locked in a big white box full of everything white. Fear suddenly found its way into the box as Tom shuddered at the thought of his possibly having just died. It was not possible, with the existence of his Horcruxes, was it? Magic had so often managed to surprise him but _this_ was most certainly not possible.

Then, back came the realization of where he was. Back came the sounds of the Death Eaters shouting and Nagini hissing violently somewhere. Back came the knowledge of what had just happened and, at long last, back came Tom's vision. The misty white disappeared abruptly and Tom looked around the once again dark graveyard. There was the tombstone of his father. There was the circle of Death Eaters, all of them staring at him with shock and fear. There was Nagini, slithering at their heels. There was the cauldron from the rebirthing ceremony. But the body of the boy he had killed, the shiny Triwizard Cup that was a portkey, and most importantly, his nemesis—they had all vanished.

And Tom was left with nothing but the knowledge that he had once again failed to kill Harry Potter.

* * *

**Additional Note: Next chapter, which I will update as soon as I can, will be called "The Prophecy Again" and for the next couple of chapters, it will all be canon but dialogue from my imagination completely. **

**And also, wow I have now reached 5000 views. Thank you so very much for reading! Really appreciated! **


	35. The Prophecy Again

**Author's Note:**** I hope you enjoy this chapter and my apologies for the delay in updates. As much as I LOVE this story, I needed a break from all the darkness. **

**I like to think of this story having 5 parts. The first is Tom Riddle's orphanage/school days, the second is his post Hogwarts and rise to power, the third is the first Wizarding war days when his powers are at their highest, the fourth is his banishment and rudimentary form days, and the fifth is his post resurrection and quest for information/revenge on Harry Potter. We have now reached part 5. As I said, this story will have 50 chapters so there's still a long way to go. **

**Also, special thanks to Harry Potter Wikia, which has been most helpful with research thus far. **

**Disclaimer:**** Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling. Thanks**

* * *

_...But the body of the boy he had killed, the shiny Triwizard Cup that was a portkey, and most importantly, his nemesis—they had all vanished._

_And Tom was left with nothing but the knowledge that he had once again failed to kill Harry Potter..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 35: THE PROPHECY AGAIN**

Britain had changed a lot in the thirteen years that Tom had been absent. It is true that when he returned with Quirrell, he had had little opportunity to see anything. And now that no one except for Harry Potter (and no doubt Albus Dumbledore) knew of the circumstances of his return, it was doubtful he would get to see much at all. Yet somehow, Tom felt like a foreigner in his own country. It was as though the wizarding community had collectively vowed to erase him from history. Wizards everywhere feared to speak his name and he was solely known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He had achieved his goal, yes, but it did not change the fact that the wizarding community was happier than ever before.

After the events of the graveyard in Little Hangleton, Tom learned that Junior had been kissed by a Dementor, by order of the Minister of Magic. Tom cursed out loud and punished several of his Death Eaters with the Cruciatus Curse. He was furious to find out this news. Junior had been his absolute favorite the past year, aside from Severus of course.

Tom's Death Eaters brought him back to Nott's old mansion that very same night. He stepped through the main foyer of the empty house and looked around. It had not changed in the slightest. He slowly made his way into the sitting room and stopped at the center of the room. A wave of images swirled before his eyes—Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy dancing across the room on their wedding day, Avery receiving the first of the Dark Marks, Rosier and Rowle playing cards in the corner, the crowd drinking to Regulus Black, Nagini feasting on the remains of the treacherous Orion and Walburga Black, and the scene of the young girl from the half-blood family happily dancing about the sitting room whilst under the influence of the Imperius Curse…the long-lost memories of his dark reign; a previous life that felt as though it had been lived even in Salazar Slytherin's time.

Tom closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air of freedom—of rebirth. It really had been too long; too long had he been forced to live under exile, barely human and powerless, not knowing what lay ahead nor what had happened to his faithful Death Eaters, and unable to get a hold of the boy. It was maddening.

"My lord?" said Nott, who stepped in the room and eyed Tom with concern.

Tom opened his eyes and slowly turned round to look at his main group standing before him. Each of them looked anxious and concerned, and some even scared. Tom smiled.

"It's good to be back."

* * *

The summer of 1995 was a glorious one indeed. From what Tom's Death Eaters had gathered, the Order of the Phoenix was back and active. This meant that the boy had indeed alerted Dumbledore of Tom's return. However, the Daily Prophet had turned quite scandalous after Dumbledore's speech early on in the summer regarding the rise of Lord Voldemort. It seemed that now, the Minister of Magic himself was displeased with the Hogwarts Headmaster.

_How very tragic,_ thought Tom the day he read the Prophet article.

Tom made sure to be very productive that summer. He'd instructed his Death Eaters to track down the others and have them come and re-pledge their allegiance to Tom. He'd also sent out a search party for one Igor Karkaroff, whom he really desired to see suffer. But more importantly, Tom contacted a few of the Dementors of Azkaban, and after they turned over to his side, provided them with a job.

His greatest wish was to see the boy who had taken everything away from him suffer predominantly. He knew that he would never be fully satisfied until he saw the boy dead at his own hands, and until he showed the wizarding world this. It had become almost a kind of obsession. And, now knowing that he had thrice failed to dispose of the boy, he concocted a new plan. He would have to return to the source of it all and reflect on where he might have gone wrong and how to further proceed. He would have to hear that prophecy again.

So, while the Dementors went to Little Whinging to seek out the boy and attempt an attack, Tom travelled to Azkaban to pay a visit to a dear old friend.

Augustus Rookwood, former member of the Department of Mysteries and a faithful Death Eater, was quite surprised when Tom dropped by…even more surprised that he was able to do so without being exposed by the Dementors.

"They are our natural allies, Rookwood," said Tom, simply.

Rookwood smiled vaguely but did not offer any conversation. He looked absolutely gaunt and haunted. Azkaban had definitely taken its toll on him.

"I have some questions I need to ask you regarding your former department," announced Tom after a moment's silence.

"I'm listening," said Rookwood in a quiet voice.

"I want to know what its primary focus is."

Rookwood frowned for a moment, trying to come up with an intelligent answer.

"It is the section of the Ministry of Magic that carries out confidential research, my lord," he finally said. "Most of its operations are carried out in total secrecy."

"What kinds of operations?"

"Research on the various mysteries of the world, sir."

"Example?"

"Space, thought, time, death…love."

"Love," repeated Tom.

"Yes," said Rookwood, nodding. "We who work there—or those of us who did, at least—are called Unspeakables because of the confidential nature of the work."

Tom frowned.

"It is said to contain some secret magical objects, is it not?"

Rookwood nodded.

"Back in the 1890s, the department was notorious for conducting time-travel experiments. There is a room that consists of thousands upon thousands of time turners. There is the Death Chamber wherein there exists a veil in an archway that will bring instant death to anyone who falls through it—a fascinating object." Tom nodded in understanding. "There is the Brain Room where there is a tank of encephala that swim in a sort of green solution. They're very highly aggressive and will attack anything that tries to disturb them. There is also the Space Chamber which is simply a dark room full of planets floating in mid-air. This is where we study the aspect of space as it is one of the limits of magic…"

"And what do you know of prophecies?" interrupted Tom.

Rookwood paused, frowning.

"There is a room that consists of millions of records of prophecies . . . they are held in glass orbs and are magically protected."

"Protected how?"

"Well…" Rookwood paused. "The only people who can lift them off their stands are the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies and the subject or subjects of the individual prophecy, meaning that anyone else who attempts to inspect the orb with their hands will be afflicted with instant madness."

"Interesting..." Tom's voice trailed off.

"M-my lord," said Rookwood, quietly. "Will I see you again soon, my lord?"

"I think not, Rookwood," said Tom, who was now standing up. "But when the time comes, I shall free you all."

"Thank you, my lord, you are kind."

"And look where it has brought me," said Tom, bitterly, before departing from Azkaban Prison.

Later that day, August 2, the Dementors returned to Tom with the news that the boy was capable of casting a Patronus Charm and that they had been unsuccessful in properly delivering the attack.

"The boy will no doubt have been relocated by the Order of the Phoenix by now," Malfoy pointed out.

"Surely," said Tom, softly.

"What else can we do, my lord?" said Malfoy.

"Have you had any luck reviving our old comrades?" Tom asked him.

"Yes, my lord, some," answered Malfoy. "They are expected to arrive tonight."

"Good," said Tom, now turning to face the rest of the room. "For the time being, I want all of you to operate in secret…you may wish to continue using these masks of yours. Continue to gather our old friends but in small numbers. As far as anyone else is concerned, Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore are deceiving the wizarding world with regards to my return. I would like to keep it that way—not for long, Lucius, only until I see it fit."

"Yes, sir," said Malfoy in a quiet voice.

"Any names of those coming tonight?"

"Some, my lord," said Malfoy, truthfully. "Yaxley, for one, is happy to return."

"_Now,"_ Tom added, bitterly. "But only a few months ago, dear old Yaxley hadn't given it a thought. He will be punished of course."

"Yes," said Malfoy. "Greyback will join soon enough, and the Carrows as well."

Tom only nodded at this, his mind still swimming around that untouchable prophecy. He was more determined than ever at getting his hands on it. He was even more eager to locate the prophecy than he was to locate the boy at the moment, because he understood that to locate the boy would be useless without full knowledge of the prophecy. And the longer he searched for the prophecy, the more defenses Dumbledore would set up.

* * *

_MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_

_DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER 'HIGH INQUISITOR'_

_In a surprise move last night, the Minister of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "The Minister for Magic has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve."_

_…_

_"Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Dolores Jane Umbridge and of course, she's been an immediate success…"_

_…_

_"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch…"_

_…_

_"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night._

Tom looked up from the paper and gave Malfoy a small smile, which Malfoy, though puzzled at first, quickly returned.

It was late evening on September 9. Tom was reading the Daily Prophet in the sitting room of Nott's old mansion, with most members of his main Death Eater group. Nagini was hissing about the room, minding her own business and Wormtail was lurking somewhere in the corner, keeping out of sight. It had been a quiet summer, as Tom wanted his return to remain a secret for now. The Death Eaters had worked hard at recruiting and were able to get back a lot of Tom's previous followers. Meanwhile, the Potter boy had been on trial for underage magic and was at risk of expulsion when Dumbledore intervened as usual and sorted everything out with the Ministry. Scoffing, Tom returned to his paper.

_"Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years," he added, "We will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation." _

_…_

_Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts._

"Ha!" laughed Greyback, who threw his cards down on the table and sat back in his chair, coolly. Tom grinned at him and then returned to the paper once more.

_"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step toward ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose confidence," said a Ministry insider last night._

_…_

_"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Wizengamot elder Griselda Marchbanks. "This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore."_

"Wormtail," said Tom, who now set the newspaper down on the table.

Wormtail moved forward on trembling feet and kept his head bowed.

"I want you to find out where Griselda Marchbanks lives," said Tom, coolly. "That will be all."

"Yes, m-m-my lord," said Wormtail before bowing again and hurrying out of the room.

Tom sat back in his chair with his full wine glass and frowned at Nagini who was slithering by around the fireplace at the back of the large room.

"It is a pity that Podmore did not work out," he said, quietly.

"He was not careful enough," said Avery who was sitting near Tom and eyeing the large snake as well.

"I think the question is not whether he was careful enough but whether you all were, Avery," said Tom, with a bit of an edge in his voice. "A wizard who is under the Imperius Curse does not think for himself."

"Yes, sir," said Avery, quietly.

"And none of the others could get past that door, you say?"

"None, my lord."

"Beautiful," said Tom, bitterly.

He pulled out his wand and began to gently stroke it with his long fingers, as he often did when he was deep in thought. Tom tried not to show his fear in front of the others, but he knew deep down that soon, Dumbledore would make the prophecy completely unreachable, for it contained the secret of the boy's existence. It contained all the answers that Tom had sought for 14 years. And as much as he hated admitting it even to himself, Tom knew very well that while the prophecy was hidden, Dumbledore had the advantage on his side.

"My lord," said Avery, clearing his throat. Tom did not look up. "My lord, c-could we possibly try using an Untouchable? Y-you said previously that Rookwood claims only Untouchables can enter those chambers . . . could we lay our hands on one?"

Tom lifted the wand, causing Avery to flinch, but still did not meet his eyes.

"I guess you have work to do for the next couple of months, don't you, Avery?" said Tom, finally.

"Y-yes, my lord," said Avery.

Tom then rose from his seat and headed out to the garden for a little walk. Nagini followed shortly after.

As Tom walked in the dark, he thought back to that strange feeling he'd gotten the night before. It was as though his mind was stretching out against its will. One minute, he was sleeping in one of the bedrooms of Nott's mansion, and the next he was at Hogwarts, on one of the beds in the Gryffindor dormitory. It had been a very weird sensation and even more alarming so that it had occurred by accident. Tom tried to convince himself that it had been due to his lack of sleep in the last few months and his stress and anxiety about that prophecy that holds all the answers. But, even now as he walked along the dark garden with Nagini slithering at his feet, he could not deny that magic was providing him unexpected surprises, yet again.

* * *

**Note:**** So as you've noticed, there's a bit of a time jump in this chapter. It begins hours after the events of the graveyard, then jumps through the summer, and ends just as the winter begins. The next chapter (expect update soon) will consist of Tom's first attempt to manipulate his newfound connection with Harry Potter, as well as everything else that happens before the events at the Department of Mysteries. **


	36. The Mysterious Connection

**Author's Note: This is a little late but Happy Easter weekend everyone! Next chapter update will be sometime next weekend. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong strictly to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...But, even now as he walked along the dark garden with Nagini slithering at his feet, he could not deny that magic was providing him unexpected surprises, yet again..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 36: THE MYSTERIOUS CONNECTION**

The next time Tom felt his mind drifting away from his body was at the beginning of October. It usually only really happened at night. He would wake up feeling as though only moments ago he'd been at Hogwarts. He would look around the room in a panic and Nagini would watch him curiously. It was starting to really alarm Tom. He even tried every spell in the book he could think of but nothing worked. These strange incidents were now almost a weekly occurrence.

The Death Eaters were not having any luck with obtaining that prophecy either. They'd tried cursing a couple of Ministry workers but were still unable to get their hands on an Untouchable. Tom gave Malfoy and Avery this special job while the others worked on recruiting more people. While all of this was happening, Tom did his research on possible causes of his mind detachment most nights. However, no matter how many books he prowled through, his gut was telling him that it had something to do with Harry Potter. Perhaps this was some kind of a new plan of Dumbledore's, to make sure Tom went mental?

"Now you're just being ridiculous," hissed Nagini.

"Hush, Nagini, I am trying to think," said Tom in a low voice.

On October 9, Avery provided him with the horrible news that another ministry worker whom he'd tried to force into the Hall of Prophecies managed to escape. Tom was beyond angry and decided to punish Avery again with his foolishness. The man squirmed in pain but Tom relieved him of it after a short while, deciding that he did not yet want him dead. It was the angriest Tom had been in a long time and he retreated to the cliff with Nagini for the rest of the night.

The next few months flew on by with barely any progress. Outside, it was beginning to snow. The weather had become considerably colder and the days longer. The Daily Prophet articles had become nastier regarding Potter and Dumbledore:

_THE BOY WHO LIES? FUDGE: "ALL IS WELL"_

_DUMBLEDORE: DAFT OR DANGEROUS?_

_POTTER, PLOTTER? LIAR TOO?_

_EXCLUSIVE: MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_

_PARENTS ENDORE MINISTRY MOVE_

Tom was pleased to hear that Dumbledore was receiving a lot of hate from the ministry. Though, it was nothing compared to what he would get once Tom took control. But that would not be anytime soon. First, he had to get to that prophecy.

By mid-December, Tom finally figured it out. It was one late evening when he was watching Malfoy and Avery play a game of cards. Tom had his eyes narrowed as the two men tried to outsmart each other. Then, Avery threw down his cards and yelled, "If only I possessed your mind, Malfoy!" That was when it all clicked.

Tom sat up in alarm, his eyes round. How could he have possibly not considered it? He jumped from his seat, frightening both men, and darted up the stairs to where Nagini was hissing around in his room. He knelt down beside her, his heart racing with the information he'd just procured.

"Nagini, I have a job for you tonight," he said, quietly, as he stroked her.

"For you, I will do anything, my lord," she replied.

"You'll like this job," Tom teased, and with that, he pulled out his wand and proceeded to possess the giant snake.

Within seconds, Nagini apparated to the Hall of Prophecies at the Department of Mysteries. Tom could feel her slithering her way about the stone-cold marble floors, looking around and hissing violently for that prophecy. The numbers on the shelves were growing as she slid forward. Just then, a delicious scent caught her off guard. She paused and looked around. There he was. A wizard sitting on the floor by the door. The man jumped to his feet at the sight of her. Nagini could not resist. She sunk her fangs into his flesh and tore at his skin, biting over and over again, tasting the sweet blood with her tongue. The man's wand fell to the ground, as did he. Yells and shrieks of agony ensued. Nagini was enjoying herself. Tom however, was growing impatient. She had not come there to feast. She had come there to work. Angry, Tom forced her back to Nott's mansion, leaving the man alone in the Hall of Prophecies where he would probably bleed to death.

"I am sorry!" Nagini repeated over and over again that night as Tom paced around the darkened bedroom, cursing under his breath.

He had been ever so close to retrieving that damn prophecy. It contained all the secrets he'd sought for so long. He _had _to get to it. And yet he could not do it. He couldn't just waltz into the ministry right now and retrieve it himself, or his element of surprise would be exposed. With his Death Eaters failing him over and over again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get to it at all.

Arthur Weasley had not died in Nagini's attack. Somehow, the ministry was alerted minutes after Nagini's departure from the scene, and the man was brought to St. Mungo's where he was now recovering. It was not reported in any of the papers of course. Tom found out about all of this from his nosy Death Eaters who were keeping tabs on things happening on the other side. How the ministry found out about the attack, Tom did not know. But at the moment, it did not really matter for it didn't change the fact that he was still without that prophecy.

Avery and Malfoy were very busy these days with a ministry wizard they'd managed to imperio. According to them, he was an Unspeakable and their best chance of getting into the Department of Mysteries and retrieving that prophecy...a certain Broderick Bode. Tom was not very much interested in the details-all he wanted was for the prophecy to be brought to him at last. He found himself thinking of Severus most days and wondering when he'd finally be able to reunite with him. Dumbledore would of course have to be out of the way for that to happen. While Dumbledore was alive, Severus was not to be in contact with Tom. At least not for now.

By January of 1996, another batch of bad news hit Nott's mansion when Avery and Malfoy arrived, both breathless.

"H-he's not r-reacting to the curse anymore, m-my lord," panted Malfoy. "H-he's becoming immune to it. He might learn to fight it soon enough and could possibly go and tell authorities."

"I advise we get rid of him as soon as possible," said Avery, darkly. "He has to be eliminated. We don't want to risk it."

"Do it," agreed Tom.

Everything was going wrong. Nothing was going his way. He could see Dumbledore now... sitting in his office with his lemon drops, smiling triumphantly at the headline:

_THE DARK LORD, EXPOSED ONCE AGAIN_—_DUMBLEDORE WAS RIGHT_

January 13 was the next time that Avery and Malfoy arrived at Nott's mansion breathless, though it was for a very different reason.

"What's happened?" said Tom, sitting up in alarm.

"Broderick Bode," panted Malfoy. "H-he's dead, my lord."

"Are you sure?" said Tom.

"Yes, my lord, died at St. Mungo's," said Avery. "We sent him a pot of Devil's Snare and it strangled him."

Tom stared at him.

"See here," said Malfoy, dropping that day's copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table next to Tom. Tom leaned forward in his chair and eyed the page carefully:

_TRAGIC DEMISE OF MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER_

_St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderick Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a potted-plant. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive Mr. Bode, who had been injured in a workplace accident some weeks prior to his death. _

_..._

_St. Mungo's is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward._

"Interesting," said Tom, sitting back in his chair and frowning. "And they haven't any way of tracing it back to you?"

"None, my lord, we were extra careful," said Malfoy.

"Good," breathed Tom, feeling quite a bit of relief and happiness at last. "Finally, one thing seems to be going our way."

"It has been a long time since we've gotten good news," agreed Malfoy.

"Yes," said Tom. "Too long a time. Let us drink to this."

He pulled out his wand and conjured up three glasses full of wine. The men toasted to a new future and drank.

Sometime the following week, Avery and Malfoy made a list of other possible Untouchables they could get a hold of. Tom listened for a long time and then grew bored and began stroking Nagini who was draped at his feet.

"Perhaps we could try someone else then?" Malfoy was saying. "Untouchables are exactly that... untouchable! They're very well protected."

"It has to be an Untouchable though," muttered Avery. "Only they will work."

"You do know better than everyone else, don't you, Avery?" Tom spoke up.

The two men froze.

"I believe it was you who said it, wasn't it, Avery?" Tom continued. He then adopted Avery's voice in a tone of mockery. "_Surely an Unspeakable will work!_"

Avery's colour changed.

"Y-y-yes, m-my—"

"What's that?" said Tom, curiously. "_My lord_?"

Avery closed his mouth again and turned very pale.

Later that month, Tom decided that it was time to stop fooling around. Right after Avery informed him that another Unspeakable had not worked out, Tom jumped up in fury, hexed him, and then apparated to Azkaban Prison. It was a stormy night—perfect for what Tom had come there to do. With a few simple waves of his wand (and with the channeling of his anger), the prison walls exploded, sending bricks flying into the crashing waves of the surrounding sea. Tom cackled with laughter and then flew away, giving his Death Eaters opportunity to clean themselves up before they reunited with him.

* * *

_MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN_

_MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS_

_The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban. Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals. _

_"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached._

"Well at least he's being honoured for _something_," said Bellatrix Lestrange as she came down the stairs, dressed in stylish black robes that outlined her slender body. She had obviously fixed herself up well after all those dreadful years in Azkaban. "I see my worthless cousin is getting all the credit for your work."

Tom smiled at her as she made her way across the room and took the seat across from him, next to Rodolphus.

"I assume you will see to it that he does not continue to take credit for my work?" he asked her.

"When the time comes, I will not hesitate to attack," confirmed Bella, who was unable to suppress a grin.

Tom smiled at their little joke, and then turned to look at Dolohov.

"Good to have you back, Antonin," he said, coolly.

"My lord," said Dolohov, bowing once.

"And you, Mulciber," said Tom. "Travers, Rabastan."

Each of the men bowed their heads upon their acknowledgement, all of them sitting with their hands on the table. Tom nodded once at Avery who then proceeded to fill them in on what had happened in their time in Azkaban. Once Avery was finished, Tom's eyes landed on Rookwood who was watching him hopefully.

"I do like to keep my promises," said Tom, casually, though he winked at Rookwood, causing him to smile brightly. "Tell me, Rookwood, what's life like on the outside again?"

"Wonderful, my lord," said Rookwood at once. "I could not be more grateful."

"Well, gratefulness is not what I seek," said Tom. "I seek more information from you. You see, it has come to my attention that I had my facts wrong. Avery here, was so brave enough to advise that I seek an Untouchable to do a little job for me. Yes, Rookwood—I have been seeking access to the Hall of Prophecies for months now. There is a prophecy that I need to get my hands on, and we have tried many men but no one seems capable of completing this simple job. You can imagine how much this shocks me...an army full of so-called experienced Death Eaters and not one of them can please me with this tiny little thing. And yet, this tiny little thing is the very secret of how I should move forward. I am—how shall I say it?—stuck in the present, for the time being."

"I will help in any way I can, my lord," said Rookwood quickly.

"I knew you would," smiled Tom. "Tell me about the Hall of Prophecies again. Why can't I get my hands on that prophecy? I've sent numerous people—Death Eaters and Untouchables alike."

"You want to steal a prophecy?" said Rookwood, puzzled. "About you?"

"Yes," said Tom.

"My lord, I...I must have mentioned it before...prophecies in the Department of Mysteries can only be retrieved by those about whom they are made. So if this prophecy that you speak of is indeed that same prophecy from...from before...then that means that..."

He paused at the look that had sunken on Tom's face. The other Death Eaters at the table looked eagerly from Rookwood to Tom.

"...it means that either I or the boy must retrieve the prophecy," Tom finished.

"Yes, sir," said Rookwood, quietly.

At that moment, there was a squeal from the doorway as a tall woman with long blonde hair hurried inside. Bellatrix jumped to her feet and embraced her at once. The other Death Eaters slowly rose from their seats to bow at the new guest and then sat back down. The woman took the empty seat between her sister and her husband and then glanced up at Tom.

"My lord," she said, bowing her head once.

"Lovely Narcissa," said Tom, kindly. "How are things over at Malfoy Manor? How is young Draco doing?"

"Very well, my lord," she replied. "He has made Slytherin Prefect this year."

"Did he now?" said Tom. "Very good, I knew he would. And what about that cousin of yours...have you any idea where he is?"

"None, my lord," said Narcissa. "He would never return to the old Black house because he hated everyone in the family, so I suppose he is somewhere in hiding."

"Coward," muttered Tom, bitterly. "Like father like son...I never liked Orion. And Walburga was a bitch."

Narcissa gave a small smile but remained quiet.

"I reckon you're happy to have me back, then?" continued Tom after a moment's silence.

"Very much, my lord," said Narcissa.

Tom frowned.

"I admit, I was confused as to why you have only just now come to see me. I have, after all, been back for several months now."

"I've been ill, my lord," Narcissa explained. "But the news of my sister's escape seems to have pulled me out of my trance."

"Yes," said Tom, glancing once at Bellatrix. "Indeed it has. Well, I am a merciful lord after all and I do reward my faithful followers. Lestranges, I hereby declare you my most trusted servants. You have been with me every step of the way and have never renounced me—unlike certain individuals I know," he cast a glaring eye at Lucius who kept his own eyes firmly on his lap, "You, Lestranges, will now be my best advisors. I shall keep you extremely well protected, and should you be returned to Azkaban, I will free you again."

"Thank you, my lord," they said in unison.

* * *

The next month and a half dragged on by as not much happened. While Tom's Death Eaters worked tirelessly at recruiting more and more followers and trying to track down various Order members, Tom endlessly pried the back of his mind for a way to get to the Potter boy without Dumbledore's knowledge, trick him into retrieving that prophecy, and then delivering it to Tom without the Wizarding World finding out about Tom's return. It seemed, for the moment, to be a complete suicide mission. Even Nagini seemed to agree that there just wasn't a way to make this possible. Harry Potter was almost as well protected these days as the Minister of Magic himself, if not more.

Yet, by early April, Narcissa arrived at Nott's mansion with the happy news that Albus Dumbledore had been replaced as Hogwarts Headmaster by that Umbridge woman who was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I never thought this day would come so soon," said Tom upon hearing the news. "Dumbledore gone? Whatever will they do?"

"They haven't a chance now!" laughed Bellatrix.

Tom smiled vaguely and then screwed up his face into a frown again.

"W-what is it, m-my lord?" said Malfoy, nervously.

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts job is cursed," said Tom, quietly.

"W-well, that _is_ what people generally think, but it is only just a myth," said Avery.

"No," said Tom, thoughtfully. "It is not a myth."

"H-how do you know, my lord?"

"Because _I_ was the one who cursed it, Avery," said Tom. "And, if my calculations are correct, the school year is drawing to an end two months from now..."

He paused and met Bellatrix' eyes. She seemed to be the only one who understood for she now looked serious as well.

"Umbridge won't last much longer," she finally said, in a constricted voice.

"And this gives me reason to believe that Dumbledore will find a way to return," Tom added.

"Well, we must find a way to kill him before he can return!" said Narcissa, simply.

"Why don't you go ahead and try to do that while I sit here and think about how to obtain that prophecy?" said Tom, dully, before sitting back in his chair and closing his eyes.

* * *

It happened again in mid-June.

Tom had been enjoying a dreamless nap in the sitting room of Nott's mansion when a momentary flash occurred, during which he quite literally felt his mind leaving his body, stretching out in that disturbingly familiar way from that night at Godric's Hollow all those years ago, and then snapping right back. And in that instant moment, he felt the rapid heartbeat of a 15-year-old boy.

Tom's eyes flew open and he jumped from his chair. The Death Eaters who had remained in the sitting room stared at him, all of them alarmed. He looked around frantically, his own heartbeat working quite fast. Bellatrix jumped to her feet and approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it, my lord?" she said, softly.

"N-nothing," said Tom, uncertainly, though it was a lie of course.

He had just figured it out.

Moving away from Bellatrix, he approached Nagini and together, they apparated to that cliff. It was still dark out in the early hours of the morning, though quite warm. Tom paced up and down the cliff and then sat down next to Nagini and frowned down at the grass.

So _this_ was why he had had those dreams all year long. This was why Arthur Weasley had not been killed in Nagini's attack. The connection. Tom and the boy had a connection. And this connection allowed them to glimpse each other's minds, much like legilimency. Though, was the boy aware of this? Of course he was, for it was _he_ who had warned Dumbledore about Weasley's attack and it was because of _him_ that the man was able to be nursed back to health, even _with_ Nagini's venomous bites. The connection was the key to everything.

Tom stood up abruptly, frightening Nagini for a second.

_So this was the way to get the boy into that hall_, he thought. This was what he was going to have to do. But how to do it? How to make it convincing? Now that he'd established that he didn't need to be near the boy to perform Legilimency on him, the greater concern was what images to place into the boy's mind that would convince him of his need to travel to the Ministry?

The answer came to him at around early evening that day when he had been watching Bellatrix playing cards with Narcissa. She really did resemble him a lot. Tom jumped to his feet and stared around at the Death Eaters who looked alarmed once again.

"I have a job for you tonight," he announced, "You are to go to the Department of Mysteries. Harry Potter will be arriving there shortly, I expect. Tonight, we are going to trick him to get that prophecy. He will so kindly and voluntarily hand it over and then I shall deal with him."

"H-how are you going to get him to c-come there, my lord?" said Malfoy, curiously.

"Legiliments," said Tom, simply, before turning round and walking out of the room.

Out in the garden, he closed his eyes and pictured himself standing right in the middle of the Hall of Prophecies. It took several minutes of deep concentration but soon enough, he felt the naïve, innocent mind of a 15-year-old intervening. Not allowing himself to be pleased about his progress, Tom focused on the task at hand. He placed Sirius right in front of him and tied him up in ropes. He added a few cuts and bruises here and there, getting a bit creative with his finishing touches. Once he was satisfied, Tom fed himself the words, "I need that prophecy."

"You'll have to kill me," the voice of Sirius Black murmured back, at Tom's discretion.

"Oh, I will," Tom replied, enthusiastically. "But first, you will fetch it for me."

He then pointed his fictitious wand at the man and yelled "Crucio!"

The man squirmed and screeched in pain that was so fabricated Tom had to tone it down a notch, feeling as though he was getting too carried away. Soon, he felt the young presence disappear and knew that he had done his job right. He opened his eyes to reveal the lonesome garden again, and finally allowed himself to smile. Harry Potter was now well on his way to the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

**Oh dear... poor Harry...**

**What do you guys think; who is Tom's most loyal follower? **


	37. Department of Mysteries

**Author's Note: ****Hey readers! Hope you've all had a good week. This chapter consists of a combination of the book's version, the movie's version, and my version. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...Soon, he felt the young presence disappear and knew that he had done his job right. He opened his eyes to reveal the lonesome garden again, and finally allowed himself to smile. Harry Potter was now well on his way to the Ministry of Magic..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 37: DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES**

It was a rather cool night as Tom slowly walked along the rainy streets of London, his head bent over the hood of his cloak. He could see a few muggles talking amongst themselves about unimportant things. Street cars honked as they passed by. Any minute now, Lucius and Bellatrix would confront Harry Potter and finally obtain that prophecy. Only a little patience needed now.

It had to be Lucius. He had been so good to Tom this last year. Of course, Tom knew that it was all just to make up for his negligence all those years. But that didn't matter. Lucius had redeemed himself. He had been most adept in helping Avery smuggle and curse Untouchables. His exclusive interviews for the prophet fueled Cornelius Fudge's desire to eliminate Dumbledore from Hogwarts and the wizarding world completely. This was his moment to show his true loyalty to Tom.

But Tom did not stay completely away. He slowly made his way for the street where he knew was the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. He knew that right about now, Lucius was speaking to Harry Potter—notifying him of the falsity in the vision of Sirius Black being tortured. And knowing that Dumbledore was gone now was a great relief to Tom. Still, he had a shrewd feeling that something was bound to go wrong. He had so little faith in his Death Eaters. They didn't have a very good track record, after all. And Dumbledore always somehow managed to mess things up. It was in his nature to do this.

Smiling slightly, Tom disappeared and appeared somewhere in one of the darkened halls of the ministry, invisible to all that were there. He saw what looked like a battle at work. Lucius and Bellatrix had been joined by several of the others… Dolohov, Avery. They were all masked and had furious looks on their faces as they shot jets of red and green light at anyone they could. Down below, Tom watched Harry Potter shout out instructions at his pathetic little friends who were attempting to duel the Death Eaters. _How very brave of them to come all this way, undefended_, thought Tom. But then he caught sight of a silvery shiny object in the boy's hands. The prophecy.

Tom's red eyes glinted with lust. He had to get his hands on that prophecy. It was the key. The answer to everything. But before he could do anything to try and join the battle, several Order members appeared in the hall and began dueling the Death Eaters. The children that the Potter boy had brought along with him were all injured in one way or another, but Potter was still dueling. Tom could make out a few familiar faces…the auror Alastor Moody, the Lupin wolf that Greyback always bragged about biting, and Sirius Black. Oh yes, Sirius Black was up and about, firing jets of lights at every dark-hooded figure.

Suddenly, Bellatrix jumped in to duel Sirius. A wicked smile crossed Tom's pale face as he watched. She was having the time of her life. Her technique was very good too. She dodged each and every one of her cousin's spells. He on the other hand, was laughing at her. Enjoying himself just as much. This was making Bella very angry and her technique began to suffer because of it. Just when Tom thought that she was done for, she shot out a jet of red light and it hit her cousin square in the chest, causing him to topple right through the arch veil in the middle of the room. He disappeared behind it. Moments later, Bella's victorious shriek was drowned by Harry Potter's yells. Tom's smile widened. The boy was shrieking in agony and began to run after Bella. Startled, she disappeared from the hall, and Tom and the boy followed.

Tom watched them running, flashes of spells flying past them. Bella aimed a few curses over her shoulder but missed them by inches and the boy was still shouting after her as he ran.

"I killed Sirius Black!" she shrieked in a sing-song voice. "Did you _love_ him, little baby Potter? Are you coming to get me?"

The boy bellowed "_CRUCIO!"_ and Bella screamed as the spell knocked her off her feet, landing her next to the fountain where there stood many statues. But she did not writhe and shriek in the pain that Tom associated the spell with. Instead, she merely gasped and turned on the floor to face the boy, who was standing over her, his wand shaking pointedly in his hand. He was gasping angrily as he stood, watching her, apparently deciding what to do.

Tom found his cue and stepped in.

"You've got to mean it, Harry," he told him. "She killed him. She deserves it."

The boy stood frozen, looking as though he were unsure of what he was hearing. Tom suppressed the urge to laugh. He knew that if he kept probing him, the boy would eventually give up and do as he was being encouraged. To see the boy commit a crime would be absolutely glorious for Tom…and doubly as surprising for Dumbledore, he was sure.

"You know the spell, Harry."

Bella finally spotted Tom and began to laugh. Potter spun around and aimed a curse at Tom, which Tom deflected right away. The boy's wand flew out of his hand and landed some feet away. He was standing alone, weak, and defenseless. Just like Tom had always pictured it.

For a while, Tom did nothing. He merely watched the boy curiously, wondering what it was that made him such a danger. He was obviously nothing.

"So weak," he said, speaking through the boy's own lips. The boy shuddered as he realised what was going on, and Bella's laugh grew louder.

She stumbled up to her feet and stood at Tom's side, smiling hungrily.

"The prophecy, boy," she said. "Give us the prophecy…and we might _spare_ your life!"

Tom smiled slightly at this.

"Well you're going to have to kill me then," said the boy suddenly, "Because it's gone!"

Tom's smile faded instantly.

"It smashed!" Potter shouted. "Nobody heard what it said! It's gone forever!"

Beside him, Tom heard Bellatrix gasp in terror.

"No, you're lying!" she shouted back at the boy. "You're lying!"

Tom simply stared at the boy with pitiless eyes.

"No, Bella," he said softly, still watching the boy, "He is not lying. I see the truth looking at me through his worthless mind." He paused. "Months of preparation…months of effort…and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again."

"Master!" screamed Bellatrix and she threw herself at his feet. "I'm sorry! I knew not! I was fighting the animagus Black!"

She was sobbing now, quite uncontrollably. But Tom's eyes were still on the boy who was standing in front of him, still frozen and defenseless.

"Be quiet, Bella," said Tom suddenly, in a dangerous voice. "I shall deal with you later."

Bellatrix obliged and crawled away from him.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Harry Potter," said Tom, simply. "You have irked me too often for too long." He lifted his wand and pointed it at the boy, who remained frozen. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

At that precise moment, the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping to land with a crash on the floor, its arms flinging to protect the boy.

"What?" said Tom, alarmed. And then it came to him. "Dumbledore."

Sure enough, Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates, wand in hand.

"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom," he said in a quiet voice. "The aurors are on their way."

"By which time I shall be gone," announced Tom, "And _you_, Dumbledore, shall be dead."

"Neither of us shall be dead tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore, simply.

This surprised Tom a great deal and he stared at Dumbledore's clear eyes behind those half-moon spectacles.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" he called, his scarlet eyes narrowed. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Tom. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit."

Tom stared, unbelieving of these words. How could this be? There was no possible way for Dumbledore to know anything about his horcruxes. Yet here he was, hinting at that very thing.

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Tom. "_Nothing!"_

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Tom and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness—"

Tom waved his wand and Dumbledore did the same. Their spells clashed into each other—green on red—and Tom spotted Bellatrix from the corner of his eye, crawling over to one of the pillars and settling herself there to watch. Another one of the statues from the fountain had grabbed the boy and moved him to the other side as well. The boy sat there, shielded from the fight. As Tom continued to duel Dumbledore, he tried to send the strength of his spell towards the boy. The most it did was break off a few bricks from the shiny walls, procuring rubble in the long corridor.

Growing tired of this useless duel, Tom withdrew his spell and let out another. Fire sprung from his wand and grew in size, forming itself into the shape a large, glowing snake. Laughing, Tom forced the snake on Dumbledore who reacted quickly, forming a shield around himself and the statue holding the boy. Behind him, Tom heard Bellatrix scream. Next second, water was everywhere. Tom was drowning in it. He could feel himself being lifted from the ground and slipping and sliding in a large ball of water which Dumbledore seemed to be rolling around the great dark hall. Unable to speak, Tom flicked his wand and he was freed from the bubble. He stood completely soaked and stared at Dumbledore across from him. Dumbledore was waiting for him to act.

_Alright then, _thought Tom. _You want a game? I'll give you one._

And with that, he disappeared. He enjoyed the look on Dumbledore's face as he spun around, trying to find him. Tom moved slowly and eerily. The boy moved away from the statue of the wizard and towards Dumbledore.

"W-where is he?" Tom heard him ask.

But Tom did not give Dumbledore a chance to answer for he plunged himself right into the boy. The boy shrieked in pain and fell to the floor, his knees buckling. His wand flew out of his hand and his glasses came off too. Tom locked the boy in the coils of his red eyes. The two were fused together, bound by an invisible force that was causing the boy unbearable pain. There was no escape, Tom knew it. Feeling pleased with himself, he spoke using the boy's mouth.

"Kill me now, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore stared, unable to move. Tom laughed.

"If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy!"

But Dumbledore did not move. He could not move. Tom had the boy wrapped around so tightly that the boy was screaming soundlessly.

Laughing, Tom decided to give him a little slideshow. He searched the boy's mind and selected his favourite memories. His mudblood mother shrieking as Tom's killing curse hit her. Cedric Diggory toppling over to the ground at the graveyard. Sirius Black falling through the veil, never to rise again. The mudblood shrieking again. Diggory falling yet again. And Black. Again and again.

The boy gasped for air as the pain overtook him. Tom knew his mind was swimming as he viewed these images on repeat. And Dumbledore stood, fixed to the ground, unable to free the boy. Laughing wildly, Tom spoke to the boy's mind.

"So weak…so vulnerable."

He began to orchestrate his own images now. A dark corridor along which the boy walked. He stopped before a mirror and stared back at his reflection which was none other than Tom.

"Look at me," said Tom, deviously.

The boy shouted again.

Dumbledore was speaking to him but Tom could not hear what he was saying. Tom was so wrapped up in the boy's mind. It was the furthest he had ever let himself in and he could now feel everything that the boy felt. Pleased with how much pain he was causing, he continued, making the boy shriek and writhe with pain. And then a sudden idea washed over him. He was going to expose himself to the boy's most treasured secrets. Fighting the urge not to laugh and break concentration, Tom dived for another set of memories.

He watched the boy's mudblood friend running across the Great Hall at Hogwarts to hug him. He watched his other friend, the youngest Weasley boy, helping the boy out of a window and into a flying car. He watched the three laughing in the snow of Hogsmeade village. He watched the boy standing before the great Mirror of Erised, and seeing his parents smiling back at him. He watched Sirius Black give the boy a hug in what looked to be the infamous House of Black. He watched the boy laugh with his friends in the Gryffindor Common Room. And then, something happened. The boy began to speak back to Tom.

"You're the weak one," he was saying. "And you'll never know love…or friendship."

Tom glared at him.

"And I feel sorry for you."

Those words had finished him off. Tom found himself forced out of the boy's mind like cannonball. He slipped out and fell backwards, though still invisible to Dumbledore and the boy. But before Tom could react to the boy's defenses, he heard voices echoing through the hall. The boy was lying face down on the floor, glasses gone, shivering and trembling. The urge to attack was too great, but now that the others had seen Tom, there was no way he'd escape if he didn't leave now.

Snarling with anger, he leapt to his feet, snatched Bellatrix from behind the pillar, and disapparated, leaving Harry Potter to weep in Dumbledore's arms.


	38. Redemption

**Author's Note: Hey readers! I really hope you enjoy this chapter. This is a short chapter transitioning from the Order of the Phoenix events to the Half-Blood Prince events. It starts with the aftermath of the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and ends in mid-summer. Next chapter update will probably be within the next couple of days. **

**I have already written the last chapter for this story. It definitely made me cry. I really hope you all enjoy it and I can't wait to release it. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...Snarling with anger, he leapt to his feet, snatched Bellatrix from behind the pillar, and disapparated, leaving Harry Potter to weep in Dumbledore's arms..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 38: REDEMPTION**

"Hang on, Bella," Tom murmured. "We're almost there."

Bellatrix whimpered as she held on to Tom's waist. The two were flying—gliding—across the dark sky above London. They flew across mountain ranges and dark green valleys until they finally reached Malfoy Manor. Once their feet landed on the ground, Tom released Bella who was still sobbing into his shoulder.

"Get off," he muttered, shaking her away.

She whimpered again but proceeded to lead him through the gates and up to the house. Tom let himself in without hesitation and stormed across the main entrance and up the stairs to what was presumably the sitting room. There, Narcissa Malfoy was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. She jumped to her feet at the sight of Tom and bowed her head. Bellatrix ran to embrace her sister and proceeded to recount the night's events to her, while Tom helped himself to a drink.

They were the only 3 in the house. None of the other Death Eaters knew about what had happened, and none of the ones at the ministry got the chance to get away. Bella and Tom were the only 'survivors' of the battle, as of this moment. The others were no doubt on their way back to Azkaban. Drowning down the wine, Tom turned to look at the two women in the corner, speaking in low whispers.

"W-what will happen to him?" Tom heard Narcissa ask.

"I'm n-not sure yet, Cissy," said Bella in a quiet voice. She too, looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Noticing Tom's silence, Bella spun around to face Tom and then strode right up to him, placing both her hands on his chest.

"My lord," she said. "I'm really truly very sorry. I did not mean for any of this to happen. I was too busy dueling Black. He was_ laughing_ at me, my lord. He dared to laugh at me!"

"I know," said Tom, coldly. "I was watching."

"Y-you w-were?" said Bella, amused. "I had no idea…"

Tom walked away from her and went to sit on the couch. He stared at the fireplace for a long time, and the others soon joined him on the chairs nearby.

"There is a war ahead of us," he announced. "But first, we must prepare for it. We'll start by releasing the captives…our followers."

Narcissa and Bellatrix seemed to let out a deep sigh of relief at the same time. Tom raised an eyebrow and stared from one to the other.

"This does not include Lucius," he informed them.

Narcissa frowned.

"M-my lord," she said in barely more than a whisper.

"My lord?" said Tom. "No. This does _not_ include Lucius. He has failed me over and over again and now I reckon a little time in a prison cell will give him perspective."

"Yes, my lord," said Narcissa, looking down at the ground as she spoke. "I understand, my lord."

"Good," said Tom, carelessly.

He looked back at the fireplace. The night had been a waste. A failure. A disaster. The most he had accomplished was possessing the boy and causing him pain. The ministry now knew that he was back, and only one Order member had been eliminated. And to make things worse, Tom still had no idea what the prophecy said, and now thanks to Lucius, he would never know.

* * *

_HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS_

_JUNE 19, 1996_

_In a brief statement Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is active once more. _

_"It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord—well, you know who I mean—is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the Dementors are currently taking direction from Lord-Thingy. We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary homes and personal defence that will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month."_

_The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more." Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening. _

_Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. _

"I'll bet he wasn't," said Tom, setting down that morning's Daily Prophet edition.

"My lord," said Narcissa in a quiet voice. "My lord, if the Dementors have now come over to your—eh, our—side, won't it make rescuing the others easier?"

"It will," said Tom, simply. "But that still does not include Lucius."

Narcissa frowned again but kept quiet. Tom looked up at her from the chair where he was sitting.

"I want him to feel a little remorse for his actions," he explained.

Narcissa nodded but again, said nothing.

"How is your son?" said Tom.

This surprised Narcissa a great deal and she stared at him.

"D-Draco?"

"You have more sons?" said Tom, raising an eyebrow.

"N-no, my lord," said Narcissa quickly. "Draco is at Hogwarts right now, sir. He…he's distraught at the news."

"I imagine he is," said Tom. "Perhaps he won't be as cowardly as his father."

"Yes, my lord," said Narcissa.

During the next week, Tom succeeded in freeing his Death Eaters from Azkaban and soon they were back and among the rest. He got his shining moment of cursing them all so they would understand their crucial mistakes at the ministry. They recovered pretty quickly but it was unlikely they'd soon forget the consequences of their actions. Many of them were now sporting terrible marks.

Now that the Wizarding world was aware of Tom's return, he saw no reason for the Death Eaters not to continue their strikes from the first Wizarding War. And so it was that they spent the summer of 1996 brutally attacking any muggle-born they could lay their hands on. They set about kidnapping various wizards, including the famous wandmaker Ollivander, who Tom hoped would provide him with a better wand for when the time to duel Harry Potter arrived.

There was lots to do and lots to take care of. The Death Eaters worked tirelessly at recruiting more members, as did the Order of the Phoenix. With Sirius Black dead, Bellatrix seemed to have higher spirits than ever. She tried to get a hold of the Black family heirlooms but it appeared that they had been left for someone else, though she did not know who. Even Kreacher the elf was off limits. So, she resorted to attacking muggle communities instead and forcing bridge collapses.

Rufus Scrimgeour, previous head of the Auror Office, succeeded Fudge as Minister for Magic and promised to restore the Wizarding world to peace. He told the Daily Prophet about adding stringent new security plans to Hogwarts, including defensive spells and charms, a complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of the school. It seemed that, for the time being, Hogwarts was simply untouchable. This, Tom knew, would create quite a challenge for his latest plan.

The way Tom saw it, it'd be foolish to continue with anything until Dumbledore was eliminated completely. It would be even more foolish to try and accomplish this himself. Dumbledore was about as untouchable as Harry Potter himself these days. It was impossible to simply march up to Hogwarts unexpectedly and kill him. It would have to be done from inside the walls. Quietly. Cleverly. Death Eater style. And who better to bestow this task upon, than dear old Lucius Malfoy's successor?

For Tom, simply rotting in Azkaban was not enough punishment. He needed Lucius to really understand his mistakes and to _really _think about where his loyalties were and where he placed his efforts. Giving young Draco the job would definitely be an eye-opener for Lucius. But Tom decided not to reveal this information to dear Narcissa just yet. All would come in good time. For now, there were more important things to deal with, as late one night in mid-July, an old friend stopped by Malfoy Manor for a little reunion.

"Severus!" cried Tom as Snape moved into the sitting room.

The other Death Eaters also rose to their feet at his arrival and bowed their heads. Snape's eyes lingered momentarily over Narcissa and her son, before they found Tom. He moved towards him and held out his hand to shake. Tom however, was too pleased to see him after so many years apart. He reached out and embraced him like a long lost friend. Snape was no doubt startled by this but decided not to say anything on the matter and merely nodded at Tom as Tom let him go.

"How are things back at Hogwarts?" said Tom, motioning for Snape to sit with him.

"Security has been increased considerably, my lord," answered Snape. "Dumbledore has gone to great lengths."

"Thoroughly predicted," commented Tom. "What about Potter? Will he be returning this year?"

"Yes, my lord," said Snape. "Dumbledore has made him Quidditch captain. He passed his OWLs. He is set to return soon."

"I do hope Potter will be well trained in Quidditch when he comes to face me," said Tom, smirking. "Dumbledore certainly thinks that'll be the key."

Snape gave him a small smile.

"Anything else you want to tell me, Severus?"

Snape paused.

"I have been appointed the Defense Against the Dark Arts post," he finally said.

Tom stared at him.

"Severus," he said, softly. "You do know the job is cursed, don't you?"

"I do, my lord," said Snape quietly. "I have hopes to believe I will amount to something greater by the start of next year."

At this, Tom smiled.

"Here's to hoping, Severus."

He waved his wand in the air and two wine glasses appeared. Snape took his in hand but did not drink. He waited as Tom drank his wine and sat back in his chair.

"Who then will be taking the Potions job?" he asked.

Snape paused again.

"Word has it that Dumbledore will try to recruit Horace Slughorn for the job, once again."

An instant memory of a meeting in old Slughorn's office swirled before Tom's eyes. He watched his younger self standing by the fireplace, tracing the shine of Marvolo's old ring around his finger. He listened to Slughorn's accelerated breathing as he questioned him about the properties of horcruxes. He then recalled the very day that Slughorn rejected joining his ranks and rejected his suggestion that he go into hiding.

"My Death Eaters have been trying to track him down for over a year now," said Tom, thoughtfully, as he watched Nagini slither into the room. "Always on the move, old Slughorn."

Nagini made her way over to where he sat and climbed up on his chair.

"My lord," she hissed, "I have missed you."

"Well," said Snape, setting his wine glass down on the table, "if Dumbledore succeeds—and I expect he will—Slughorn will be back at Hogwarts for good."

"Yes," said Tom, staring off into the corner of the room where Draco sat nodding at Bellatrix, who appeared to be explaining something to him.

Tom's eyes then landed on Avery who sat alone in another corner, watching him intently. He was never alone with Avery anymore. It appeared as though Azkaban had really taken its toll on Avery. At least, he was never the same after he got out of there. Pity. Tom was really starting to like him again. Despite his obvious betrayal and cowardice, he had been with him since the very beginning, and though Tom did not like to admit it, he'd hate if something were to happen to dear old Avery.

Shaking away the nostalgia, Tom turned back to Snape.

"You have done excellent work these last 15 years, Severus," he told him. "And you are my most trusted and loyal servant. I am glad to have you back."

Something ghostly seemed to wash over Snape but it was instantly gone. He looked Tom straight in the eyes and Tom saw through his black ones the long-awaited return of a faithful servant.

"I was never gone, my lord."

* * *

**Teasers, anyone?**

**Next chapter will feature a particularly long conversation between Tom and Snape. Also, Draco's initiation into the Death Eater community needs to take place sometime soon, doesn't it? ;)**


	39. The Chosen One

**Author's Note: Hiii readers! I know I've been quiet for a week and a half now, or so it seems. Lots going on. Thankfully, I've been able to finally sit down and write this. I'm still really busy so unfortunately the next update won't be until next weekend, but it'll be a good one, I promise. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! It's definitely one of my favourites.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong strictly to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...Something ghostly seemed to wash over Snape but it was instantly gone. He looked Tom straight in the eyes and Tom saw through his black ones the long-awaited return of a faithful servant._

_"I was never gone, my lord..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 39: THE CHOSEN ONE**

The summer flew by with little news from Dumbledore. All Tom knew was that Slughorn had agreed to take the job and was headed back to Hogwarts this year. Also, the Order was doing everything they could to put up defenses against Tom's ever growing army. Other than that, it was a pretty quiet summer on Tom's end. The Death Eater parties had become a regular thing once again. Nagini was enjoying herself now that she spent more time with Tom. And Lucius Malfoy was still crying in some prison cell. Things were really good.

Severus was back to attending the parties on a regular basis, which pleased Tom very much. He was Tom's eyes and ears inside Hogwarts and therefore Tom intended to keep him close to his side. But also, Severus had stayed true and loyal to Tom all those years. He, like Crouch Junior, had not faltered or given up or run away in fear of getting caught. He played the role of a 24 hour spy most beautifully and had gathered quite a load of useful information for Tom. For instance, it was because of Severus that Tom knew Harry Potter would be receiving private lessons from Dumbledore this upcoming school year. It was because of Severus that Tom knew the boy had inherited the Black family heirlooms, much to Bella's chagrin. It was also because of Severus that Tom knew the boy's nightmares and visions had ceased to exist. Though, Tom still did not know why.

"Magic always manages to surprise even the best of wizards, my lord," said Snape simply as the two dined in the sitting room of the Malfoy House, along with the rest of Tom's so-called main group.

As usual, Narcissa was sitting in the corner with Bellatrix, whispering with a distraught expression on her face. Beside her sat a young man with short blond hair and a grim expression. He was staring at the floor and playing with the hem of his robes. His attendance at the party had been requested by Tom for a very specific reason. And Narcissa, as clever as she was, refused to leave her son's side.

"Is it possible that the boy has been learning to fight Legiliments?" said Tom, looking away from the Malfoys and into Snape's black eyes.

"If he has, it is news to me, my lord," said Snape, darkly. "Dumbledore of course is one of the greatest wizards of all time."

"Naturally," agreed Tom.

"And so if he has been teaching the boy some kind of defenses, it would not surprise me," concluded Snape.

Tom nodded, glancing back down at the newspaper article on his lap:

_Harry Potter: The Chosen One?_

_Rumours continue to fly about the mysterious re-cent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more. _

_"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night. _

_Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance cen-tered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy. Though Ministry spokeswizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown..._

"When is this article from?" Tom asked Snape.

"A couple of weeks ago," Snape answered. "Here is today's."

He handed Tom that day's copy of the Daily Prophet and Tom smiled at the headlines.

_Death Eater Attack Targets Muggles_

_Gringotts Raid Fails: Hexes Fly_

_Exclusive: New Minister Promises Swift Action_

_Death Eaters: How They Challenge Security Measures_

_Fallen From Grace: Malfoy's Wife and Son Leave Trial_

Tom looked up and met Narcissa's eyes. She had a frightened look on her face.

"Come," said Tom, tossing the newspaper back to Snape.

Narcissa nudged her son and the both of them got to their feet and slowly approached Tom.

"Bow to me," said Tom.

They exchanged a look and then bowed low to him. Tom's eyes lingered over Narcissa for a moment before they landed on Lucius' son.

"Draco," he said, affectionately, and he stood up and embraced the boy, who looked beyond puzzled. "I am so glad you could make it."

He let go of the boy and stared at him. The boy gave him a small smile and then lowered his head again so that his eyes were staring fixedly on the ground.

"Draco," said Tom, both his hands still on the boy's shoulders. "Look at me when I talk to you, Draco."

Draco raised his head and met Tom's eyes.

"Y-yes, my lord," he whispered.

"Good," said Tom, smiling. "How old are you now, Draco?"

Tom already knew the answer but wanted the satisfaction of hearing it again.

"S-s-sixteen," mumbled Draco.

"Sixteen," said Tom, aloud. "I do remember another boy who was sixteen when he joined my ranks."

Tom moved away from Draco and began to slowly walk around the room.

"He was an exceptionally good follower and very skilled for such a young wizard," he continued. "I trusted him beyond anything else. I was most impressed with his charisma, his abilities, his perseverance." Tom paused and then chuckled a little. "He reminded me a lot of myself."

Draco smiled slightly. Narcissa had taken hold of his hand and stood beside him.

"He was related to you, you know," said Tom, who stopped on the other side of the room and turned to face Draco again.

"You speak of Regulus," said Narcissa, "My lord."

"Yes," said Tom, raising an eyebrow at her. "Young Regulus."

"H-he betrayed you though, s-sir," she said, in a small voice.

"Much like your husband," Tom pointed out.

This silenced Narcissa at once.

"And I believe," added Tom, taking a few steps towards her, "I was talking to your _son_."

"Y-yes, my lord," she said quickly, lowering her head at once.

Sneering, Tom turned back to Draco.

"You miss your father?"

The boy nodded silently.

"I will bring him back if you will do something for me," lied Tom.

Draco stared at him.

"Are you ready to join my ranks, Draco Malfoy?"

The boy's jaw dropped. Beside him, Severus did not look the least bit surprised and simply watched the boy, waiting for his answer. Narcissa had gasped at the question, and some of the other Death Eaters in the room had whispered to each other. But Tom kept his eyes firmly on Draco and waited.

"I'm..." said Draco, in a slightly trembling voice. "I'm not s-sure I have acquired the...the necessary skills yet, my lord."

"Come now, Draco," said Tom. "I know you're not in Gryffindor but have a little more bravery to try new things!"

"I don't want to disappoint you, my lord," said Draco, in barely more than a whisper.

"Well," said Tom, sighing heavily. "You will join me by the end of this summer, I guarantee that. You see, Draco, I have a little job for you and I know you will be exceptionally brilliant at it." He took a step towards him and glared him in the eyes, seeing Lucius Malfoy looking back at him. "You have until the end of the summer to _acquire the necessary skills_."

And with that, he turned round and stalked out of the room, waving Snape to follow him.

It was a cold night as they walked along the back hills of the large manor. Tom had invited Nagini to join them as well and she slithered on by them.

"If there is a job you need doing, my lord, I'll be happy to do it," said Snape.

"No, no," said Tom, smiling. "This is a job for Draco."

"But the boy is right, my lord, he hasn't got any special talents. He is not trained in any way. He's not ready for-"

"Oh Severus, don't be a fool!"

Snape stopped and looked at Tom, uncomprehending his meaning.

"Severus," said Tom. "I am trying to punish the boy for his father's mistakes. Lucius has disappointed me a great deal. It is time he paid." Severus seemed to understand for he nodded and continued the walk. "It is important to me that my Death Eaters understand that they cannot get away with things quite easily. Not with _me_ as their lord, anyway. Lucius is rotting in a prison cell right now but I cannot see this and so it does not satisfy me. But watching Draco attempt to carry out the job that I have for him (and failing miserably at it, I guarantee that) will be most entertaining, I admit."

"And what is the job that you plan to give to him, sir?" said Snape.

Tom stopped to look at him and lowered his voice.

"I want Albus Dumbledore dead, and Draco is going to do this for me."

It was a while before Snape found his voice. It was the most shocked Tom had ever seen him.

"_I_ work at Hogwarts, my lord," he finally said, in a hoarse voice. "_I_ dine with Dumbledore every night. _I_ have managed to deceive him, after all these years, and he believes me to be on his side. He believes _me_ to be a part of the Order of the Phoenix. He believes _me_ to be _his_ servant. Who better to give this job to, then? Why are you entrusting _a child_ with such an important thing?!"

"Severus," interjected Tom. "I trust you the most, and I know you could do the job easily, which is why, when Draco shall fail, I will turn to you to help me with this. There is no question of it." Snape relaxed a little bit. "But do not deny me the chance to have a little fun. I want Lucius Malfoy punished. He deserves punishment."

"Of course, my lord," said Snape, suddenly. "I understand completely."

"Good," said Tom, starting the walk again. "I knew you would."

"So there is no changing your mind about this, then?" said Snape. "If you really want Dumbledore out of the way, I could guarantee that much faster than Draco ever will."

"No, there is no changing my mind," confirmed Tom. "Getting Dumbledore out of the way is not so urgent to me right now. I am still gathering my troops and preparing for what is to come."

"And what exactly is to come, my lord?"

"If things go on as they have these last few months, I hope to have control over the ministry by this time next year," said Tom. "I am giving Draco his entire school year to complete the job. That should be plenty of time. Once Dumbledore is out of the way, taking over the ministry will be easy."

"I agree, my lord," said Snape. "I shall help him complete the job then."

"No," said Tom. "Don't do that, Severus."

"Why not?"

"I want to see him fall on his back," said Tom. "I want to see him suffer. If Draco suffers, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy suffer. And they deserve suffering."

"Alright," said Snape, though it sounded to be in a sort of painful voice.

Tom knew that Snape suffered the wraths of love before and had been left wounded. He knew that because of this, Snape had a tendency to help other people he cared about. He knew that Snape had grown attached to the Malfoy family over the years and would do anything to help them. But he also knew that Snape would not dare to go behind his back or disobey him, as he was his most trusted and most loyal servant.

"I must say," said Tom, changing the subject. "You are the best actor I've ever known in all of my life, and I have lived quite a long life."

"How do you mean, sir?"

"Well, if you remember, I did have a little adventure at Hogwarts a few years ago," said Tom. "His name was Quirrell."

"Yes, I remember," said Snape.

"I also remember you threatening him every now and then and trying to stop him from getting into that room on the third floor."

"All Dumbledore's orders, of course," said Snape.

"I know," said Tom, nodding. "And I am very proud of how well you played your part, I really am."

"You are very kind, my lord," said Snape.

"I do have some questions, Severus," said Tom as they turned around and started to head back towards the house.

"Sir?"

"Well, I can't help but notice the irony."

"Irony?"

"Yes, you see, you specifically asked me not to kill Lily Potter, do you remember?"

"Yes," said Snape, in a strained voice.

"And I unfortunately had no choice but to kill her," said Tom simply. "And here we are, fifteen years later, and you are my best servant. A bit ironic, don't you think?"

"People change, my lord," said Snape. "You of all people know that, I'm sure."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I'm sure Avery was not always as he is now."

At this, Tom chuckled aloud.

"Yes, Avery was very much like Wormtail, once."

Feeling a bit better, Tom changed the subject once again.

"So, I see that now you have managed to score the teaching post that I was once rejected for," he said, conversationally.

Snape tensed up a bit but nodded.

"How do you plan on handling it?"

"I haven't thought about it yet, sir," said Snape.

"I am not trying to interfere, Severus," said Tom, at once. "I have better things to do than go chasing down some teaching post. That was what my younger self once wanted. I am a different person now."

"Yes, sir," said Snape. "Of course, sir."

"But if you should need help finding some ideas as to what to teach or how to teach it," said Tom.

"You are very kind, sir," said Snape, again.

Tom smiled as they walked back up to the house.

"It's going to be an eventful year," he said, contentedly.

"It is," agreed Snape.

"Do pass along my thanks to Slughorn, won't you?" said Tom, opening the door and entering the house again. "That man once helped me a great deal. I would not be standing where I am now if it weren't for him."

And, smiling at his little joke, he closed the door on Severus, who looked slightly horrified.

The next time Severus came by for a dinner party was near the end of August, on his last week before he had to be back at Hogwarts.

"Severus!" said Tom, who looked absolutely delighted to see him. He hugged his servant and then led him outside for a short walk.

"How have you been, Severus? I was beginning to worry that you'd grown bored with our hospitalities."

"Of course not, my lord," said Snape, quickly. "I have only been busy preparing for the upcoming school year. Dumbledore knows I fought long and hard for that post. If I do not appear to be the least bit excited for it, he will know something is up."

"Very clever of you, Severus," said Tom. "I am glad to see you are taking your real job seriously."

"Of course, my lord, I have been for 15 years."

"Good," said Tom. "So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Snape paused.

"Lucius Malfoy."

"What about him?"

"With all due respect, my lord, I think you should free him and let him come back to you as a faithful servant."

"Lucius was never a faithful servant, Severus, you should know that,"

"Of course, my lord. I just feel that it will—it does—affect Narcissa and Draco a great deal."

"So?"

"So, if you want their utmost attention on tasks that you give to them, then—"

"Severus, how many times have I told you to stop caring so much?" said Tom, tiredly. "You are wasting your time with it. It never gets anybody anywhere good."

"Of course not, my lord, I was just merely suggesting that—"

"Listen to _me_, for a change," said Tom, sharply but quietly. "You just keep doing the job that you have been doing so well these last 15 years, alright? Leave the other things to me. I shall take care of them."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good," said Tom, putting a hand on Snape's shoulder. "Now, let's go and make ourselves a little Death Eater."

Back in the house, Draco was standing nervously next to his mother. Tom ordered everyone to gather around as Draco held out his arm and Tom began to distribute the Dark Mark to him. When the process was complete and Draco had vowed his allegiance to Tom, Tom cleared everyone else out of the room so that he could speak with Draco. He allowed Narcissa and Bella to be present and so they stayed.

When the four of them were alone, Tom let go of Draco's arm which was bleeding now slightly, and began to slowly pace around the room.

"I am only letting Narcissa and Bella be here for this because you are still underage," said Tom. "And so I swear to the three of you that if the following information leaves this room_, I will slice your throats._"

"We understand, my lord," said Narcissa, in a slightly shaking voice.

"Good," said Tom. "Now then, as I have mentioned before, I do have a job for you, Draco. Consider this your first Death Eater task."

"Whatever it is, Draco will be happy to do it," said Narcissa.

"Oh shut up already," Tom told her, and she closed her mouth at once.

He turned back to Draco.

"Albus Dumbledore," he said simply.

"W-what about h-him, m-my lord?" said Draco.

"I want him dead," announced Tom.

"Y-y-you w-want m-me to…?"

"That's right. I want you to kill him. I don't care how you do it, just make sure that heart stops beating, understand?"

Draco nodded once and gulped nervously.

"And you are not to receive any help doing this," Tom warned him. "Not from your mother or any of the other Death Eaters. Completing this task will show me that you have what it takes to be a Death Eater."

"Yes, sir," whispered Draco.

"And _you_," said Tom, turning to Bella, "Are not allowed to help him with this."

"Of course not, my lord," she said, quickly. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Tom turned back to Draco.

"I suppose it is _you_ who is the real chosen one, isn't it?" he said, cleverly.

Draco nodded slowly.

"You have until June," said Tom, seriously, and with that, he left.

Snape was waiting for him out in the garden. Tom walked up to him and together they walked away from the house.

"Will he do it, my lord?"

"He'll try," said Tom, smiling at Snape. "It is going to be quite an eventful year."

* * *

**Poor Draco :( he has basically been ordered to write his own death certificate**

**Well, that's it for now. I'll see you all next weekend with a new chapter that will detail all of the Half Blood Prince plotline but in a fast-forward version, from Tom's perspective of course. And at the end, a reward for Snape. **


	40. The Wizarding War—Part 3

**Author's Note: Hey guys~ Here's a long chapter detailing all of what happens during Harry's sixth year, but from Tommy's perspective. It's quite lengthy and so it should make up for the next week of silence. **

**Also, I was a little inspired by Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" for a small bit of this chapter. You'll see why. **

**Dedication: Bellatrix. Giggles, thanks so much for your kind words; they mean a great deal to me. Hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...Snape was waiting for him out in the garden. Tom walked up to him and together they walked away from the house._

_"Will he do it, my lord?"_

_"He'll try," said Tom, smiling at Snape. "It is going to be quite an eventful year..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 40: THE WIZARDING WAR- PART 3**

Rowle shouted in victory as he threw his cards down at the table and smirked at the distraught-looking Avery. The man who'd lost grumbled and began to deal again. Meanwhile, Rowle picked up his winnings and proceeded to count them with such admiration. He had won all of 15 galleons.

The two Death Eaters were sitting at the coffee table in the corner of the room on a late Thursday night in October. They had been playing cards all evening, each game resulting in a victorious win for Rowle. On the other side of the room, Narcissa Malfoy was sorting through old family photos. Beside her, her sister Bellatrix was sharpening a pocketknife which Tom had given to her years ago. Greyback the werewolf was telling Bellatrix a rather gruesome story about one of his wolf experiences during his travels. And sitting not too far from them was Wormtail who was nervously rocking himself in a chair as though his life depended on it.

Tom remained at the top of the stairs, admiring his Death Eaters from above. They were all waiting of course for news from Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, regarding a certain muggle riot that took place earlier that evening. Hours had passed since they were supposed to be back and the Death Eaters were now growing a little nervous.

Tom held his wand in his long fingers and began to stroke it gently, as he often did when he was in deep thought. He wondered how Severus was doing as the new defense against the dark arts teacher. He had not heard from him since Severus had departed for Hogwarts at the end of the summer and he knew he would not hear from him until the Christmas holidays when Severus would be staying at the Malfoy house. Tom had promised Narcissa that if Draco succeeded in his mission, he would release Lucius from Azkaban. Though, he doubted he would feel like doing this.

Draco. Tom couldn't help but wonder at least three times a day what Draco was up to and how he was doing with his mission. He had no idea how things were going back at Hogwarts, which was ironic considering he now had _two_ men on the inside. He wondered, as he continued to stroke the beautiful wand in his hands, what kinds of methods Draco was attempting in order to fulfill his task.

But Tom had not spent the last two months roaming around Malfoy Manor and thinking about Draco's mission or what Severus was up to. In fact, Tom had been very busy indeed. He had managed to retrieve all of the forgotten Death Eaters from Azkaban, with the exception of Lucius of course, who Tom felt needed to spend a little more time there. Tom had also taken to recruiting many more Death Eaters and reuniting with old friends as well, including the Carrows, Yaxley, and Mulciber. All were of course happy to return to him and accepted their punishment without objection. After all, Tom felt it absolutely necessary to ensure that his Death Eaters knew he would not be taken advantage of. It was important that they knew he was not forgetful or forgiving.

"Ha!" laughed Rowle as he slammed his cards on the table again. This time, Avery jumped to his feet and drew his wand, pointing it directly at Rowle. Rowle's smile faded quickly and he too, got to his feet.

"What are you going to do, Ave?" he demanded. "You going to hex me now?"

"I just might," growled Avery.

"I dare you to," said Rowle. "Come on, go ahead. Hex me."

Avery did not move and his wand remained pointed at Rowle's chest. Narcissa and Bella had turned their heads to watch the two men. Greyback was eyeing both of them hungrily, and Wormtail looked very nervous again.

"Don't got it in you, do you?" said Rowle, smirking. "Always knew you were the weakest one."

"Shut up!" roared Avery.

"Yeah? Why don't you _make _me?"

The flash of white light that had erupted from Avery's wand blasted Rowle backwards. He hit the wall and then stumbled to the floor. Avery looked quite shocked from what he'd done and actually approached Rowle to give him a hand, but Rowle was too quick. He'd raised his own wand now and yelled "_Crucio!_" at Avery. Avery deflected the spell and retaliated with a rather nasty one that sent Rowle flying backwards again. Greyback laughed out loud and even clapped his hands a few times, but Avery did not smile. He looked to be very angry now and was no longer willing to help Rowle to his feet.

Rowle gasped in shock and forced himself back to his feet. He glared at Avery as though he was seeing another man completely.

"You want more?!" demanded Avery, furiously.

"That's enough!" interjected Tom.

The two men spun around and found him standing at the top of the stairs, his wand pointed at the both of them.

"I do not have the patience for your childish games," he declared. "_Enough_."

"Y-yes, my lord," they mumbled together, and as Tom made his way down the stairs, the men bowed and put away their wands.

"Where is your self-respect?!" said Tom, glaring at Avery. "Where is your dignity and pride?"

"I'm sorry, my lord," said Avery in a quiet voice.

"And you, Rowle?" said Tom.

"Aye, me too, my lord, very sorry indeed."

Before Tom had a chance to respond, there was a loud pop outside and the doorbell rang. Narcissa jumped to her feet to go and disable the protective charm and let the visitors in. Moments after, she returned to the room with Rabastan and Rodolphus. Bella hopped to her feet to go and greet her husband.

"Well?" said Tom, turning away from Avery and Rowle.

"Everything went according to plan, my lord," said Rodolphus.

"How many?"

"Seven dead, my lord," said Rabastan.

"Very good," said Tom. "Good job, both of you."

The two men smiled.

Tom heard the slightest and faintest cough behind him and when he turned around, he found Avery firmly avoiding his eyes. Without hesitating, Tom reached into his mind. Though, what he saw was admittedly not something he'd been prepared for. He saw Avery remembering a time when he'd been told good job by none other than Tom, long ago. He saw Avery remembering a particularly painful train ride during which Tom had decided to punish him. After all this time, Avery was still holding on to his childhood.

"Avery," said Tom suddenly.

He looked up at him.

"A word?"

Avery nodded and followed Tom out of the room. They went down the stairs to the cellar where the old wandmaker Ollivander had been stranded for a few months. Tom ignored him completely as he walked by his cell and Avery kept his head bowed as he walked alongside him.

"How long have we known each other, Avery?" he asked, casually, his eyes closed as he walked.

Avery frowned at this question.

"You know how long, my lord," he said, looking puzzled.

"Were you or were you not the first ever Death Eater?"

"I…I suppose I was, my lord."

"And do you or do you not know me longer than anyone else here?"

"I do, my—"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU BEHAVING LIKE AN IMBECILE?!"

Avery shut his mouth quickly and fixed his eyes on the floor. The two had stopped walking and Tom was glaring at him amidst the darkness of the cellar now.

"Do you not know well by now that I don't tolerate such things?!" snapped Tom. "Are you really that ignorant, Avery? Have you forgotten what I did with the Blacks? With Lestrange? Or did you think I would never dream of killing _you?_"

"I'm s-s-sorry, m-my—"

"Sorry? SORRY?! Let me define the term 'sorry' for you, shall I? 'Sorry' would be recognizing your faults and being able to terminate them. 'Sorry' would be understanding how to act and when. _Look at me when I talk to you, Avery!" _Tom slapped Avery hard across the face and Avery's head was now turned completely away from him. He slowly lifted it so that Tom could see the glistening tears streaming down his cheeks. "Man up, Avery, stop crying." Avery wiped the tears with the sleeve of his cloak and looked away again. "Explain yourself, Avery."

"M...m-my lord, I…"

"Stop with the 'my lord' for a second here," said Tom, who was growing annoyed. "Talk to me like we're back at Hogwarts, otherwise I'll be forced to invade your mind and _believe me_, if I do, it won't be for the simple pleasures of reading your thoughts."

"Y-yes, my…"

Avery caught himself short at the sharp look that Tom gave him.

"Alright," he said, sighing heavily and wiping another tear. "Tom…" he paused and looked up at Tom to see if he was angry for being addressed by his old name. Relieved that he wasn't, Avery cleared his throat and continued. "Everyone else is gone besides Rowle…and he's become very arrogant. It's just us left from that first group…and…and that first group was the b-best one, T-Tom, it really was. And…a-and it frightens me when you act irrationally because…b-because…you were my…my first ever f-friend at Hogwarts a-and I don't even s-see that b-boy anymore when I l-look at y-you…"

Tom lifted his wand, illuminating it, so that he could see Avery's face clearly in the darkness. He looked like the ghost of a man who was gone completely. From the first time that Tom had met him, he knew Avery would be a difficult one. He was a silly, stuttering boy back then, but during the war he had matured into a very respectable man—one whom Tom had been most proud of. He had been very confident and had made Tom extremely pleased. But after Tom's rebirth, Avery changed completely. It was like he had worked backwards and was now as vulnerable and sensitive as he had been as a child.

"Avery," said Tom, finally, lowering his wand slightly. "You have to let go of the past. That is the number one lesson I have always tried to teach you. There is no reason for you to linger around those memories anymore. Nostalgia has never done anyone any good. You know that."

"Y-yes, sir," said Avery, quietly.

Tom placed both hands on his shoulders like he used to do with Regulus. Avery looked up at him.

"You know you were always my favourite, don't you, Avery?"

Avery paused, then nodded slightly.

"But if you proceed to challenge me," warned Tom, "I am going to have to kill you. You are no different than Walburga and Orion Black, our old friend Lestrange, or even Regulus. You are just as much of a Death Eater as any other and so the same rules still apply to you. Understand?"

"Y-yes, sir," said Avery, feeling that it was appropriate to return to the formality at this time.

"Don't be a Wormtail, Avery," said Tom. "You are much better than that."

"Yes, my lord, I promise," said Avery, confidently.

"Good," said Tom, letting go of him. "And don't ever fight with Rowle again. I am not your babysitter and I haven't the patience to sit around and watch you two go at it."

"Of course, sir," said Avery, and with one small bow he retreated from the cellar, leaving Tom to his disturbing thoughts about what it would be like to perform one of Severus' nasty spells on Avery at the next dinner party.

October soon turned to November and brought with it the chills of the wind and the leafless trees. The snow was not yet falling but one could tell it wouldn't be long now. The Death Eaters continued to meet at Malfoy Manor but the dinner parties were only held about once a week, for Tom kept them all very busy. His Death Eaters were hard at work, attacking and kidnapping all the right people. They managed to get to a few ministry workers and spurred some panic among the wizarding community. Muggles were also being largely targeted, which alarmed the minister for magic very much.

Tom knew he didn't like Rufus Scrimgeour from the moment he'd read that Scrimgeour was to succeed Fudge. And now that Scrimgeour had been minister for a few months, Tom was reminded of why he didn't like him. Scrimgeour seemed to have far too much bravery for a man of very little security against the Death Eaters. Sure, it was assumed that, as the minister, he was untouchable. But for Tom, no one was untouchable…not even Albus Dumbledore.

Tom spent his days traveling for the most part. He traveled to rural parts of the country and interrogated various wizards. He did a lot of blackmailing, some threatening, and even a little bit of killing. It was such a relief to be back in the game. He had been undercover for a year now and exiled for 13 years before that. Now that the world knew he was back and was expecting something grand, it was time to act once again…

…and this time, Tom would act on a greater scale than he'd ever done before.

On one such occasion that Tom was getting ready to go out and track down another wizard with whom he'd dealt in the past, Narcissa Malfoy approached him at the door.

"My lord," she said, nervously. "I was hoping to have a little chat with you."

"Later," said Tom, simply, as he pocketed his wand. "Can't you see I am about to go out, Narcissa?"

"Please, sir," she continued, helping him pull on his travelling cloak. "It won't take long. We can walk out together."

"Cissy, don't do it!" hissed Bellatrix from the corner of the room as she ran up towards them. Tom turned to look at her and Bellatrix immediately halted to a stop before him. She bowed low to him and then turned to her sister. "Come along, dear."

"I wish to speak to my master, sister," said Narcissa, in a shy voice.

"Let her go, Bella," said Tom, whose attention was now caught.

Bellatrix stopped tugging on her sister's sleeve and bowed again to Tom.

"As you wish, my lord," she said, as she began to back away.

"Come on," said Tom, and Narcissa followed him out the door.

Outside, the snow was falling heavily and Narcissa quickly conjured up a cloak for herself as well. She wrapped a scarf around her head to keep the blonde hair from getting too wet with the snow. The two walked along the long path towards the gates leading out of the mansion grounds. Nagini had followed them out the door and was slithering at their feet. She was hungry.

"What is it you wish to discuss with me, Narcissa?" said Tom.

"It's about Draco, my lord," she said.

"What about him?"

"I'm worried about him, my lord. His father's absence is taking its toll on him. He is unable to concentrate well in school."

"It couldn't perhaps be that the mission I've assigned him is just keeping him busy, could it?" said Tom, lazily. "I thought you were supposed to be smart, Narcissa."

"Of course, my lord," she said, quickly. "I only meant…sir, please my lord, would it be possible for you to finally grant Lucius his release? It has been quite a few months now, sir."

Tom stopped walking and turned to look at her. Narcissa looked right back at him without a shred of fear. Tom examined her features carefully. She looked nothing like her sister. Narcissa had more of a motherly look about her. Her eyes were not as dark as Bella's and she looked more nurturing and loving. _How sickening_.

"Your husband has disappointed me a great deal," he finally told her. "You know that very well."

"I do, sir, I just…I only ask that you please reconsider and try to find a way to forgive him and let him come back to you so that he could do it all again and properly perhaps."

"Forgiveness is what you want, is it?"

"Absolutely, my lord, we live to be your servants and we want nothing more than for you to be happy with us Malfoys," said Narcissa quickly.

"But you are technically a Black," said Tom, smartly. "Blacks have disappointed me a great deal in the past. Look at your aunt and uncle…your cousins…all of them. Your sister isn't a piece of cake, either." Tom paused. "Why should the Malfoys be any different?"

"The Malfoys are a loyal lot, my lord," said Narcissa.

Tom highly suspected that she was inventing this as she went along. She had not prepared for this conversation at all. She had perhaps told her sister about it and her sister at least had been smart enough to advise her against it. But it looked like Narcissa was the stubborn type…very willing to do anything for her husband and her son…out of pure, motherly love. Why, this was all too familiar for Tom's liking—another foolish Lily Potter standing before him, waiting for him to decide the fate of her family.

"Very well, Narcissa," said Tom at last. "I have to go now but I will consider what you have asked of me, for the purposes of taking care of my own. Lord Voldemort after all takes care of his own."

"You are too kind, my lord," said Narcissa, bowing low to him. "Too very kind."

"I know," said Tom, straightening up. _How sickening_.

Before long, the Christmas holidays had fallen upon them all. The Death Eaters were certainly not big on any holiday celebrations, but they were definitely excited about Draco's and Snape's return. They would be arriving in just a few days and would be staying at Malfoy Manor for the entire break. Tom was also looking forward to this. He was mostly looking forward to the updates on Hogwarts and Draco's mission. He was very curious as to how far the boy had come.

And so it was that near the end of December, on a very snowy afternoon, Draco and Snape arrived at the doorstep of Malfoy Manor and were each greeted with enthusiastic hugs from Narcissa. Tom had been sitting in the corner with Avery, going over a list of recruitments when they entered the room. Tom sprung to his feet and greeted Snape with a firm handshake. He then turned to Draco who was standing nervously beside him, much like a younger version of Lucius.

"How are you, Draco?" said Tom.

"F-fine, my lord," said the boy, quietly.

"Good term so far?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"How is dear old Professor Slughorn? He has not by any chance replaced you as head of Slytherin house, has he?" said Tom, turning to look at Snape who shook his head in response. "I thought not…are you liking him as a professor, Draco? You know, I had him when I was at school. He was my absolute favourite of the lot…a very smart _and_ foolish man."

"H-he's swell, sir," said Draco.

Tom eyed him for a second, and then nodded.

"Well, come in, come in, it is _your_ home, after all."

Draco looked nervously at Snape who nodded his approval. Draco then moved into the living room and took a seat on the couch beside Bellatrix. She began to whisper to him and soon, Narcissa joined them.

Several Death Eaters had gathered in Malfoy Manor for the holidays, including old friends like Dolohov, Yaxley, Macnair, Mulciber, Jugson, and Nott's son. Narcissa passed drinks around to each of them and they laughed and discussed matters and various riots of recent weeks.

Ignoring them all as the noise of the room increased, Tom turned on his heel and stepped outside. It wasn't long before Snape took the hint to follow him out. Once they were out in the cold of the snow, they began their walk and Snape instantly proceeded to a review of Draco's progress.

"He hasn't managed it yet, my lord, but he is still working."

"What has he managed to do so far?" asked Tom.

"Imperio'd a Gryffindor girl into giving a cursed necklace to him," said Snape. "It didn't work, of course. Potter and his freaky little friends got in the way as usual."

"Right," said Tom.

"There isn't much else that has happened and the boy won't open up to me so I don't know what he is planning."

"Wait…he doesn't open up to you?"

"No, my lord."

"That's odd," said Tom. "I was almost sure he would. He looks up to you a great deal, Severus, as I'm sure you know."

"The boy hasn't said a word, my lord," said Snape again.

"Very odd," said Tom. "No matter, he'll get the job done soon enough. Now then, how are you doing with your classes, Severus?"

"Fine, my lord," said Snape, who seemed to have tensed up a bit.

"Any trouble at all?"

"None, sir."

Tom stared at him for a long time and then nodded.

"Well, if you do not wish to discuss it with me, I suppose I understand."

"Of course not, my lord," said Snape, quickly. "I only meant that I would rather discuss more important matters with you."

"Such as?"

"Such as how the recruitments are going and what is the plan for your next course of action and when things are going to really start up again and—"

"Merlin's beard, relax Severus!" exclaimed Tom.

Snape closed his mouth but smirked in apology.

"Things are going as they should be," said Tom, simply. "There isn't much news. I have recruited many more followers. Ollivander is living in the basement and the next course of action will not be determined until Dumbledore's heart stops beating. Understand?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Now, how is dear old Slughorn doing? I mean, really, how is he doing?"

"Oh he's still Slughorn, alright," said Snape. "Still the same old, foolish, fame-seeking, ignorant, fat-bellied, wine-sipping git."

Tom laughed out loud.

"He has certainly been enjoying the potions master title again," said Snape, more seriously, "As I have been enjoying the defense against the dark arts post."

"Naturally," said Tom, nodding. "Has Slughorn spoken to you at all?"

"No, my lord," said Snape.

"Hasn't mentioned the likes of me to Dumbledore at all? Why, I'm quite disappointed. I must admit, I didn't think he would forget about me quite that easily."

"Dumbledore has not been spending much time with the teachers this year, my lord," said Snape, in a low voice.

"Oh?"

"He spends most of his time shut up in his office."

"Doing what?"

"Reading…talking to the headmaster portraits…eating lemon drops."

"Old fool," muttered Tom.

"With all due respect, my lord, I must say I disagree."

Tom stared at him.

"I only mean that he is a great wizard and you know this very well, which makes it all the more entertaining to watch him underestimate you."

Tom looked from one of Snape's black eyes to the other and back. Then, a sick smile crossed his face.

"What about the boy?"

"What about him?" said Snape, looking confused.

"What is _he_ up to?" wondered Tom, who was for some reason imagining the boy teaming up with Dumbledore and strategizing ways to bring Tom down.

"Quidditch, what else?" said Snape. "He is captain this year, my lord, it seems to be the only thing that concerns him. Well… that and the Weasley girl."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"You seem to really resent the boy, Severus."

"I do," said Snape. "He is a clone of his father."

"Ah," said Tom, finally understanding. "The old quarrel with James Potter, I see. You needn't worry, Severus, all will come in good time. That's a promise."

Snape nodded.

* * *

_He didn't remember exactly how he'd got there. But that did not matter. The important thing was that he was back there. Back in the green of the Slytherin common room. A table that had never been there before now stood in the center of the room, just by the emerald green fireplace. And at the table, seven boys were seated._

_Tom caught sight of himself in the mirror hanging on the wall by the door and jumped back slightly. He was back to his fourteen or fifteen year old self. He looked so very different… no red in the eyes, no slits for a nose...he looked just like his handsome father again._

_Staring back at the group of boys waiting at the table, Tom slowly approached them. At the sight of him, they all jumped to their feet and bowed their heads. Tom sat at the head of the table and they sat as well. All heads were now turned to him, waiting for him to speak._

_"What are we doing here?" Tom asked, despite of himself._

_"You called us here, my lord," said Lestrange._

_"I don't remember doing that," said Tom._

_Last he remembered, he was at a typical Death Eater party at Malfoy Manor, years after this time frame._

_"Perhaps you did not do it on purpose," suggested Selwynn, "But here we are."_

_"So best we talk," added Rosier._

_"Why are you all speaking to me this way?" said Tom, who was completely puzzled. "I am your lord—your master!—and you dare speak to me this way?"_

_"There is nothing more you can do to us," laughed Nott. "We're dead."_

_Tom's eyes grew wide. He looked around the table, searching for a hint of laughter that would indicate this was all some big joke. He would surely punish them all afterwards for making a mockery out of him. But before Tom could respond however, three more figures walked through the door._

_"Sorry we're late," they said as they approached the table and took their seats._

_Tom eyed them carefully. They were young versions of Lucius, Severus, and Crouch Junior…versions that Tom had never had the pleasure of meeting back in his real life._

_"What is this?" Tom asked._

_"This is your party, my lord," said Avery._

_Tom stared at him._

_"Whatever are you talking about?" he demanded. "Tell the truth! What is happening?!"_

_"You mustn't worry too much, sir," said Lucius. "It is only just a dream."_

_"It is a time for us to talk," suggested Severus._

_"Talk?" repeated Tom. "Talk about what?"_

_"You," said the boys seated at the table._

_By now, Tom was well aware that this was just another sick dream. Still, he did not like it one bit._

_"Talk then," he said, playing along._

_"I'll start," said Lestrange, and he placed his hands on the table and leaned forwards. "Do you remember the first day we met, Tom?"_

_"Do not speak to me like that," said Tom, through gritted teeth. "And you know perfectly well that I am not big on nostalgia."_

_"Ah but see that's the beauty of dreams," said Rowle, cleverly, "You can't tell us what to do."_

_"Well, technically he can, it is his subconscious after all," said Avery._

_"Yes but he doesn't seem to know how to use it," said Rowle. _

_"But the point is," intervened Lestrange, "That you remember the day we met, don't you, Tom?"_

_Tom eyed the table. The boys were seated in the order of their pledged allegiance to him. All of them were eyeing him quite fearlessly…as though there was nothing that he could say or do to them…not in this world, at least._

_"Yes," he finally said. "Yes I remember that day, Lestrange. And your point is?"_

_"Do you remember all those late night trophy room meetings? And how you told me not to play Quidditch? And how you refused to play Exploding Snap with me and Avery all those train rides?"_

_"Yes," muttered Tom._

_"Yet I still followed you," said Lestrange, thoughtfully. "I still did everything you told me to. I still paraded around like a pathetic little Death Eater. I had two sons who are now following you as well…I provided you with two more servants. And yet you still killed me."_

_"You deserved it," said Tom, lazily. "You deserved your death, Lestrange, you know that."_

_"It is true," said Lestrange. "I gave you the smart advice of telling Regulus what you had done to his parents and you ignored this advice and chose to frame me instead."_

_Tom glared at him._

_"I completely deserved my brutal death, you are right," said Lestrange. "You manipulated a young man—a boy—to murder me in cold blood."_

_"What about us?" said Nott as Tom turned to look at him._

_"What about you?"_

_"We died in your service!" exclaimed Nott, pointing to himself and Davis. "We fought in the war and you let us die. Whatever happened to your promise that you would keep us safe?"_

_"We were supposed to be the main group—the group that started it all—your favourites," said Davis._

_"But you betrayed us," said Selwynn._

_"It's not my fault you lot are too stupid to save your own arses," said Tom, coldly. _

_He did not like this one bit. He did not like his main Death Eater group talking to him this way. He wanted to rage at them…torture them…kill them. But they were already dead—with the exception of two. And then there were Lucius, Severus, and Junior, who were completely random additions to this little meeting that Tom was still yet to understand._

_"What say you, Avery?" said Tom, suddenly._

_Avery turned his head toward him and smiled._

_"I say you were always very cruel to me, Tommy," he answered, shocking Tom a great deal. "You were the reason I stuttered all throughout my Hogwarts years. You were the reason I never amounted to anything great. I thank you for that, Tom."_

_"Stop it," said Tom._

_"Just hear them out," said Severus._

_"They make good points, you know," added Lucius._

_"Stop it," repeated Tom._

_"Rosier!" said Lestrange. "You're rather quiet tonight, is there anything you'd like to say?"_

_"Tom ruined my life, what more can I say?" said Rosier. "I planned to live a long and fulfilled life and instead I was killed in a riot shortly after his supposed exile."_

_"Supposed?" breathed Tom._

_"You don't think he was actually unable to return?" said Avery with fascination, completely ignoring Tom sitting next to him._

_"Of course he wasn't!" exclaimed Selwynn. "Don't you see, Ave? He ran away when he was unable to kill that Potter boy."_

_"I ran because I had to!" yelled Tom, but no one seemed to hear him._

_"It was all part of a plan, you see," said Rosier. "He left us to deal with the aurors while he was out there, safe in some ruddy forest."_

_"That's not true!" shouted Tom._

_He began to search for a wand in his pockets but it was nowhere to be found. This nightmare needed to stop now._

_From the other end of the table, Crouch snorted, causing all heads to turn to him._

_"Something you'd like to say, junior?" said Avery, sweetly._

_"Yeah," said Junior, turning to glare at Tom. "He killed me."_

_"I did not," said Tom._

_"You as good as did," said Junior. "A dementor's kiss, Tom. Have you any idea how horrid it is? No, of course you don't. And it's completely your fault that I was administered the kiss. It is a horrific death, one that none of you here can understand, so I would say that yes, I got the worst end of the deal here. I win."_

_Avery turned to look at Tom._

_"How's it feel, Tommy boy?" he demanded._

_Tom stared at him in shock._

_"How's it feel to know that you ruined nearly all of our lives here?"_

_"I could care less how I—"_

_"But we're your servants!" exclaimed Lucius in a tone of mockery. "We pledged lifetime allegiance to you while you pledged fulltime protection and security for us."_

_"You never kept your deal of the bargain," said Severus. "Why should we continue to keep ours? More than half of us are dead."_

_"And the rest will probably be dead soon as well," said Lucius and Severus nodded._

_"Dementor's kiss and manipulating a sixteen year old boy to murder," said Lestrange. "You're a sick fuck, Tom."_

_"Shut up!" shouted Tom, and this time he sprung from his chair and shoved the table._

_The scene dissolved._

_Tom was now standing atop a cliff he had often visited with Nagini. He was standing in the middle of a circle formed by his main Death Eater group. They were now eleven or twelve years old. The boys had joined hands and were running around Tom and laughing to a song:_

Tommy the murderer killed us all

The smart and the ugly, the weak, and the tall

But he can never truly get rid of us

It's our turn to haunt him

Let's throw him under a bus!

_"STOP!" shouted Tom inside his eleven-year-old self._

_The scene dissolved again and now memories and images were swirling all around. Tom caught sight of himself yelling at his Death Eaters. He saw Exploding Snap and Quidditch. He saw the Forbidden Section of the library, the Room of Requirement, the Chamber of Secrets, the Trophy Room…he saw the inside of Dumbledore's office. He saw those accusatory eyes behind the half-moon spectacles smiling at him._

_"I told you!" they sang._

_"Stop it! Stop it now! Leave me alone!"_

_Tom shrieked at the top of his lungs but the images only swirled faster and faster, rewinding and fast-forwarding right before Tom's very eyes. It seemed to go on for hours before the images finally stopped, landing on one specific one…the crime scene of Little Hangleton. Tom's eleven-year-old self stood in the middle of the home, looking down at the bodies of his father and grandparents. Morphin Gaunt's body also appeared on the floor. Then Frank the gardener's body and Bertha Jorkins. Hundreds of others from the first Wizarding War piled themselves on top of the Gaunts and the Riddles. Tom's main Death Eater group (with the exception of Severus, Lucius, Rowle, and Avery) also joined the pile, followed by the Blacks._

_Tom's head began to spin uncontrollably and the room swiveled around him again. He was losing his breath again. He was being dragged out of his own body again. He had sworn this would never happen to him again and yet now he was back in Godric's Hollow, back at the scene of the crime, being ripped from his body and shrinking back into nothingness. Lily Potter's shriek filled the room, followed by Harry Potter's baby cry._

Lightning struck and Tom opened his eyes.

"Happy Christmas, my lord," hissed Nagini into his pale, sweaty face.

* * *

The Christmas holidays passed very quickly and soon it was time for the many Death Eaters that had come to depart, and for Draco to return to Hogwarts with Snape. The main Death Eater group gathered before the fireplace of Malfoy Manor to say goodbye to the two departing. Tom hung back by the stairs, a glass of wine in his hand, watching Draco intently. Bella was the first to notice. She hugged Draco goodbye, glared at Snape for a fraction of a second, and then approached Tom. She paused, bowed low to him, and then took his nod as approval that she could sit down.

"How are you today, my lord?" she asked him.

Tom did not answer but continued to watch the departing ones…the way Snape placed his hand on Draco's shoulder, kind of like a father. Tom did not like it one bit. Narcissa must have been responsible for this. Tom had particularly ignored her request from before and had not freed Lucius just yet. Narcissa moved Draco away from Snape and began to whisper to him. Snape turned round to Avery and embraced him.

"My lord?" said Bellatrix again, placing her hand on his arm.

Tom wrenched it free and took a sip of his wine.

"What do you want, Bella?" he said, lazily.

"I want to know what you're thinking."

Tom paused.

"I'm thinking…that Slughorn really should have joined me when he had the chance."

"Horace Slughorn?" said Bellatrix, slowly. "What…"

"I just think it was a big mistake on his part," said Tom, simply.

He then lifted himself from the stairs and walked away from Bellatrix without another word.

Truth be told, it was always somewhere on Tom's mind. Even when he was off on his travels, recruiting more Death Eaters or blackmailing various wizards, he was still thinking about what a wasted opportunity it had been. He found himself thinking a lot about that conversation he'd had with Slughorn all those years ago. Lately, it was buried deep in his mind for some reason.

_"It'll be our little secret," he had told the old professor that night._

And indeed, if Slughorn was smart enough to figure it out, then he was the only person in the world who knew about Tom's horcruxes. Or rather, he knew that Tom had been interested in them.

The months moved quickly now. Snow slowly began to melt as the warmth of the spring crept in, bringing with it lots of sunshine and greener grass. When Tom wasn't travelling, he was sitting at Malfoy Manor and desperately trying to pry himself into the Potter boy's mind. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not do it. It was like an invisible barrier had been put up where the boy's mind was supposed to be. This made Tom highly suspicious of Dumbledore and that he in fact _had_ taught the boy this occlumency trickery.

Tom knew his Death Eaters were extremely busy but he had already warned them not to bother him with petty little details unless absolutely necessary. He knew the riots were almost a daily occurrence now. He also heard the name "Shunpike" mentioned a couple of times amidst whispers. But other than that, all was well.

By late March, Tom gave up on the boy's mind and started to think a lot more about Dumbledore. He wondered how much closer Draco was to killing him. He could hardly wait until the moment he would be sure that the old fool was dead. But still, the memories of all those interrogations in Dumbledore's office were creeping and stubbornly forcing themselves into Tom's mind. He saw himself sitting across the old man, watching those accusatory eyes searching his own for the truth. He had always suspected Tom. Always. And Tom had hated him from the moment he'd met him…from that very first meeting.

_"If, as I take it, you are accepting your invitation to attend Hogwarts—"_

_"Of course I am!"_

_"—then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir'."_

It had been the ultimate punishment...presenting the poor orphaned boy who already hated authority so much with even more authority to obey.

And what about all the other stuff he'd always said to Tom about love? What about how he always reminded him that he was woefully ignorant of this kind of magic? And how he never let Tom forget his real name and absolutely refused to accept what Tom had become? What about all of that? Exactly how did he expect Tom to not hate him and to not want him dead?

"I have some business I need to take care of," Tom announced one late June night to his main Death Eater group.

They sat up in their various seats and looked up at him.

"I need to journey far from Britain and will be back later tonight," Tom continued. "Do not let anything damaging happen in my absence. Understand? Avery? Rowle?"

"Yes, my lord," they mumbled in unison.

"Do not disappoint me," said Tom. "Do not anger me. Do not challenge me. _Do not_ test me."

"Yes, my lord."

Tom turned to the slithering beast in the corner of the room.

"Come, Nagini," he hissed, and together, they disapparated.

It was not long before Tom found the Little Hangleton village once more. Nagini slithered at his feet as Tom pulled on the hood of his black cloak and began to walk up the hill. He greeted the other snakes in Parseltongue as he passed them and soon he reached the front doors of the Riddle House. Without hesitation, he let himself in and illuminated his wand against the darkness.

The home had not changed in the slightest since the last time Tom had been there. He doubted anyone had stepped foot in it. The horrid memories of his rudimentary form…Wormtail stuttering as he took Tom for walks about the grounds in the dead of night, whenever Tom had a breathing fit…Bertha Jorkins' torture. Tom truly felt as though it were only yesterday that this had all happened.

He stepped through the darkness, flicking his wand here and there to move furniture aside. It was like a horrible nightmare, being back in that house. The next worst thing would probably be returning to the orphanage which he knew was no longer standing. But Tom's presence in the Riddle House was very necessary that night. He knew that he had been particularly reckless with his thoughts in the last few months, which was exactly what had caused his downfall last time. He needed to be back in that house to remind himself of the consequences, for he'd swore that he would never go back.

Tom stepped over a few shards of glass on the floor and peeked through the window on the opposite side of the room. He could see the graveyard from here…just over the hill in the distance. That particular place exhibited some very good memories indeed. Feeling rather sick from his sudden nostalgia, Tom took one last look around the house and then walked out. Nagini had been hissing angrily at a brown snake when Tom joined her. He pointed his wand lazily at the snake and muttered _Avada Kedavra_. Nagini shouted in ecstasy and slithered back down the hill, with Tom following her.

He took his time, feeling very full of thoughts that night. Suddenly, he felt something that made him stop in his tracks. The Dark Mark. It had been conjured. A death had occurred. Feeling slightly nervous (for the first time in a long time), Tom acted fast and apparated straight to Malfoy Manor. Though, he was pushed back almost at once. He fell back down on the grass of Little Hangleton and rubbed his head, remembering that Narcissa had added a few more protective enchantments around the residence and that one could not simply apparate to those grounds anymore.

"We'll have to fly then," said Tom.

He apparated Nagini to Nott's old mansion so that she could wait for him there. Then, Tom lifted himself into the air and flew. This method was certainly slower than apparition, but it did give Tom time to think. Even though he knew he was not ever going to die, he felt like there wasn't time for anything anymore. Time was slipping away from him, along with the memories of his childhood. Though, he was rather glad to be rid of those. That dream really had been disturbing. And, feeling slightly paranoid afterwards, Tom had invaded Rowle's and Avery's minds just to check if they'd had anything to do with it. As thoroughly predicted, they didn't.

When Tom finally arrived at Malfoy Manor, he was met with a great surprise. His main Death Eater group, along with those who had visited for the holidays, were all gathered in the sitting room, waiting for him. Draco and Snape were also among them. Tom let himself in and stood in the doorway, waiting for the bad news he knew were coming.

"It's done, my lord," announced Severus. "Dumbledore is dead."

Beside him, Draco nodded slightly and then turned away to wipe a tear. He looked frightened beyond comprehension. Avery looked very pleased and so did Rowle. Narcissa was holding Draco's hand tightly and Bellatrix was practically jumping in her seat with joy.

"Dead?" repeated Tom in a surprisingly hoarse voice, "You…you're sure?"

"Yes," said Snape.

Greyback clapped his hands once and sniggered. Mulciber and Dolohov laughed out loud. All the other Death Eaters had wide smiles spread across their faces as they waited for Tom to comprehend this news.

Bellatrix laughed and jumped up to join Tom. She was not afraid this time. She locked her arm with his and faced the Death Eaters.

"We've done it," she announced, gleefully. "Albus Dumbledore is gone. Now, there is nothing they can do to us."

"We did it!" exclaimed the Carrows who were sitting in the corner by the fireplace.

"Actually, Snape did it," corrected Rabastan Lestrange.

Tom's red eyes met Snape's black ones.

"Severus," he said.

But something seemed to have died inside Snape for he only nodded in response.

Beside him, Narcissa's hand tightened its grip around Draco's and the two of them looked fearfully up at Tom.

"I'll do it," he told them. "I'll release him. Not because he deserves it, and certainly not because you've earned it…but because I, Lord Voldemort, am now the single most powerful wizard in the world, and you have been there with me for a good duration of the journey."

He paused and looked around the room, his eyes landing on each and every one of the gleeful faces for a split second.

"All of you," he added, and in spite of himself, he smiled.

* * *

**Only 10 more chapters of this story to go! I am seriously dreading the end now... **

**Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! **


	41. Meeting at Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Here it is, the first chapter that opens the Deathly Hallows plotline. Hope you enjoy it and see you again next week! **

**Dedication:****_ ViViV_, thank you for taking an interest in this story. Your feedback is very much appreciated and I hope you continue to enjoy! **

**Thanks: _Rubychanel_ and _RiddleHorcrux_ and _PureBlood King_, thanks very much for your kind words! I really appreciate you taking the time to read this story and hope you enjoy this chapter as well. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_"...I'll do it," he told them. "I'll release him. Not because he deserves it, and certainly not because you've earned it…but because I, Lord Voldemort, am now the single most powerful wizard in the world, and you have been there with me for a good duration of the journey."_

_He paused and looked around the room, his eyes landing on each and every one of the gleeful faces for a split second._

_"All of you," he added, and in spite of himself, he smiled..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 41: MEETING AT MALFOY MANOR**

Mysterious thing, time. Powerful. And yet, when meddled with, dangerous. Oh but the things you could explore with time. The things that you could achieve and amount to. It's the greatest thing in the world. Better than space. Or gravity. Even magic would not be what it is without time. Time is at the center of everything.

Tom continued to stare at the clock chiming in the sitting room. The Death Eaters seated at the long table with him were very quiet. All were wearing black and had their heads bowed and hands on the table. Everyone was there. Avery. Rowle. The Carrows. Greyback. Dolohov. Everyone. Even the Malfoys. Yes, all three of them. Lucius looked far worse than he had when Tom had last seen him. Azkaban had really done a number on him. But the traitor deserved it and he knew it.

It had been a long summer, though full of activity. Tom reckoned that things really started to happen the night Dumbledore was killed. Severus and the others had returned to Malfoy Manor with the news that Tom had been waiting nearly all his life for. Pleased, Tom awarded Severus the status of chief Death Eater and his personal assistant. He truly deserved it, Severus. It was, after all, through his efforts that Tom now had a clear path to Harry Potter, what with Dumbledore gone. The thought of it still brought a shine to Tom's red eyes. He tried to keep himself levelled and professional, but could hardly suppress the excitement.

The clock on the wall chimed 11. Some of the Death Eaters at the table looked up at it but remained silent. Tom continued to stare on. He was feeling very hopeful for the future, especially now that his Death Eaters were helping him concoct a plan to attack Harry Potter this summer. Not long after that was done, they would rise together and take over the Ministry of Magic. Tom would have everything he'd ever hoped for.

Tom's eyes landed on Draco. He was staring up at the body revolving overhead…the body of one of his former teachers. Draco seemed to have tears in his eyes which he was trying hard not to show. Tom sneered. If Draco continued to anger him this way, he would lose his temper and kill him. However, he knew very well that Narcissa and Lucius would not be pleased with this. And as much as he hated to admit it, he still needed them.

The door to the sitting room opened and in stepped two men, both dressed in black cloaks. They froze at the sight of the woman floating in the air above the table. Tom eyed the men for a second, then smiled.

"Severus," he said, softly. Snape forced his eyes away from his colleague and met Tom's. "I was beginning to worry you had lost your way. Come, we've saved you a seat."

Snape stepped forwards and took the seat on Tom's immediate right.

"Yaxley—beside Dolohov," instructed Tom without looking at the man.

Yaxley took his allotted place. Most of the eyes around the table were on Snape. Aware of this, he regarded his attention to Tom only.

"You bring news, I trust?" said Tom, kindly.

"It will happen Saturday next, at nightfall," said Snape, crossing his hands on the table.

Tom's red eyes fastened upon Snape's black ones with great intensity. The other Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably in their seats, fidgeting or stiffening. All were afraid that Tom would look at them. Snape, however, looked calmly back into Tom's face, and after a moment, Tom's lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.

"Good. Very good. And this information comes—"

"From the source we discussed," said Snape.

Tom smiled again, picturing how pleased Dumbledore would be with Mundungus Fletcher, if he were alive. Dumbledore had always taken betrayal to heart, and it was a pity he was not here to witness it again.

"My lord," Yaxley leaned forward to look down the long table at Tom and Snape. All faces turned to him, including Tom's. "I have heard differently. Dawlish, the auror, had let slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the thirtieth of this month—the day before he turns seventeen."

"This is a false trail," said Snape, sharply. "The Auror office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter."

Ignoring Snape, Yaxley addressed Tom again.

"I assure you, my lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," said Yaxley.

"If he has been confounded, naturally he is certain," Snape retaliated. "I assure _you_, Yaxley, that those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."

"Well, they've got that right, haven't they?" said Amycus Carrow, who was sitting a short distance from Yaxley.

He gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the table. Tom did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upwards to the body revolving slowly overhead. If only Yaxley knew how close Tom was to killing him at that moment. But even Tom was not stupid enough to do that. He could not just go around killing every Death Eater that annoyed him to bullocks. He needed to keep his calm because even he knew that a leader was nothing without any followers.

"My lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of aurors will be used to transfer the boy—"

Tom held up his white hand to silence Yaxley. He looked somewhat resentful as Tom turned back to Snape, who seemed to understand him completely.

"Where will he be taken, the boy?"

"To a safe house," said Snape at once. "Most likely the home of someone in the Order, I expect. I'm told it's been given every manner of protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. Unless the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday and we have undone the enchantments… once the boy is there, it will be impractical to attack him."

"Well, Yaxley?" Tom called down the table, the firelight glinting in his red eyes. "Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?"

Once again, all heads turned. Yaxley squared his shoulders and took a nervous breath.

"My lord, I have good news on that score," he announced, quietly. "I have—with difficulty, and after great effort—succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse, who I'm sure you know, is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

The Death Eaters looked very impressed and some muttered congratulations to Yaxley which he accepted quietly. Dolohov, who was sitting next to him, clapped him on the back proudly.

"It is a start," said Tom, simply. "But Thicknesse is only one man, Yaxley. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way."

For a fraction of a second, Tom thought he'd caught Snape looking up at the witch revolving in the air above them.

"Yes, my lord, that is true," said Yaxley quickly. "But Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy…now that we have such a high-ranking official under our…er, _your_ control…" his voice trailed away as he looked curiously at Tom, who was now smiling strangely.

"As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered," said Tom. "And at any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done while he travels."

"I agree completely," added Snape.

"But," said Yaxley, who was glaring at Snape quite resentfully, "We are at an advantage here! We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If the boy apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately."

"He will not do either," said Snape, lazily. "The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place."

Tom nodded. This was no new information to him.

"All the better," he said. "He will have to move in the open."

Again, Tom looked up at the slowly revolving witch as he went on.

"I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own, I'll admit. That Potter lives is due more to my errors, than to his triumphs."

"My lord!" exclaimed Bellatrix who was sitting next to Narcissa, some ways down the table. "My lord, I'd like to volunteer myself for this task. I want to kill the boy."

At these words, seemingly in response to them, a sudden wail sounded—a terrible, drawn-out cry of misery and pain. Many of those at the table looked downwards, startled, for the sound seemed to have issued from below their feet.

"Wormtail!" shouted Tom, who felt his fury coming back now. "Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest quiet?!"

"Yes m-my lord," gasped Wormtail, who'd been standing in the shadows of the doorway all throughout the meeting. "Right away, my lord!"

He scurried out from the room, and even out in the hall Tom could hear his nervous whimper. Tom scowled at what a pain Ollivander was being, but still turned back to Bellatrix to answer her request.

"As much as I admire your bloodlust, Bella, I must be the one to kill Harry Potter," he said, simply, though with a small smile.

Bellatrix frowned and looked as though she was about to protest, but decided against it and sat back in her chair.

"However," said Tom, who now began to rise from his chair. "I am faced with a complication."

The other Death Eaters looked up at him curiously. Again, Snape gazed up at the revolving witch but then looked away quickly. His eyes seemed to lock with that of Draco's and they appeared to be having a silent conversation.

"It seems that my wand and Potter's share the same core," Tom continued, addressing the entire table. "They are, in some ways, twins. We can wound but not fatally harm one another. And so, if I am to kill him, I must do it with another's wand."

At this, Tom paused and looked around the table curiously. The Death Eaters seemed to have realised what he was requested and almost automatically turned their heads down, all of them avoiding his red eyes. Tom chuckled.

"Come now," he said, "Surely one of you would like the honour?"

The Death Eaters kept their mouths shut and their eyes fixed on the table. Some of them began to breathe heavier and others twisted their fingers around nervously. Tom slowly walked around the table, eyeing each one with immense hatred. He stopped behind one particular Death Eater with whom he was most displeased and glared down at him.

"What about you, Lucius?"

Lucius slowly turned his head around to face Tom and frowned.

"M-my lord?"

His eyes were sunken and shadowed as he gazed up at Tom nervously.

"My lord?" said Tom, mocking the shriveled excuse for a Death Eater. "I require your wand."

"I…" Luicus glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight ahead, quite as pale as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down her back. Beneath the table, her slim fingers closed briefly on his wrist. At this touch, Lucius put his hand into his robes, withdrew a wand and passed it along to Tom, who held it up in front of his red eyes, examining it closely.

"Do I detect elm?" he said, in a very quiet voice.

"Y-yes, m-my lord," whispered Lucius, quite hoarsely.

"And the core?"

"D-dragon—dragon heartstring."

"Dragon heartstring," Tom repeated. He examined the wand once more and then stared at Lucius, who looked to be on the verge of tears, rather like Wormtail always did. "Why are you so down, Lucius? I have given you your liberty…is that not enough for you?"

"Of course not, my lord," said Lucius, quietly, but Tom ignored him as he returned to his seat.

"I have noticed that you and your family seem less happy of late…what is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?"

"Nothing—nothing, my lord!" exclaimed Lucius, hoarsely.

"Such lies, Lucius," sneered Tom.

His soft voice seemed to hiss on even after his mouth stopped moving. One or two of the wizards sitting across from Lucius seemed to shudder. Nagini was heard sliding across the floor beneath the table. She emerged to climb slowly up on Tom's chair. She rose, seemingly endlessly, and came to rest across Tom's shoulders. Tom stroked her absently with long, thin fingers, while his red eyes were still on Lucius Malfoy.

"Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot?" he wondered aloud. "Is my return—my rise to power—not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"

"Of course, my lord," said Lucius, quickly. His hand shook as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. "We did desire it—we do."

To his left, Narcissa made an odd, stiff nod, her eyes averted from Tom and the snake. To his right, Draco, who had been gazing up at the inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Tom and away again, terrified to make eye contact. His eyes landed on Snape who did not look away.

"My lord," said Bellatrix again, her voice constricted with emotion, "It is an honour to have you here, in our family's house. There can be no higher pleasure."

Where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive, her sister leaned towards Tom, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

"No higher pleasure," Tom repeated, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. "You were not pleased then with our closeness many years ago, Bella? Was sleeping with me really that awful?"

Bellatrix blushed furiously and looked down at the table.

"Of course I was pleased, my lord," she said, quietly. "You know that."

Tom smiled darkly at the look on Rodolphus Lestrange's face on the other end of the table.

"Bella," said Tom, turning back to her. "I know you speak the truth…but surely you don't expect me to believe that you weren't even a little pleased to hear about the event that has taken place in your family this week?"

She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.

"I d-don't know what you mean, my lord," she said.

"I'm talking about your niece, Bella," Tom clarified. "And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud."

There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks. Nagini, disliking the disturbance, opened her mouth wide and hissed angrily, silencing the Death Eaters at once. Bella's face was red again. She appeared to be angry.

"She is no niece of ours," she said through gritted teeth. "We—Narcissa and I—have never set eyes on our sister since she married the mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries."

Tom, who appeared to be very amused, turned to Draco, who was still locked in a gaze with Snape.

"What say you, Draco?" he asked, and though his voice was quiet, it carried clearly through the jeers of the other Death Eaters. "Will you babysit the cubs?"

The laugher increased. Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother's eye. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall. Snape was the next one Draco looked at and he seemed to instruct Draco. With one careful breath, Draco turned to Tom, met his eyes, and shook his head. This was not the right answer.

"Enough," said Tom, stroking Nagini who was still very angry. "Enough!"

The laughter died at once.

"Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time," Tom told Bellatrix who was gazing at him, breathless and imploring. "You must prune yours, must you not? To keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest."

"Yes, my lord," whispered Bella, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude. "At the first chance!"

"You shall have it," said Tom, approvingly. "And in your family, so in the world…we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain…"

And with that, Tom raised Lucius' wand, pointed it directly at the slowly revolving figure suspended over the table and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds.

"You recognise our guest, Severus?" Tom asked cleverly.

Snape raised his eyes again to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now too, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity.

As the witch revolved to face the firelight, the woman said, in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!"

"Yes," Snape answered, as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

"And you, Draco?" asked Tom, stroking Nagini's snout with his wand-free hand.

"Please!" she hissed at him. "Please, I'm so hungry!"

"Soon," he hissed back, still waiting for Draco's answer.

Draco shook his head jerkily. Now that the woman had woken, he seemed unable to look at her anymore.

"But you would not have taken her classes," said Tom, scolding himself. "How silly of me. For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Miss Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her speciality was Muggle Studies."

There were small noises of comprehension around the table. Amycus Carrow's sister cackled.

"Yes..." said Tom, thoughtfully. "Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about muggles…how they are not so different from us…" Dolohov spat on the floor at these words. Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape again.

"Severus…please….please…"

"Silence," said Tom, and with another twitch of Lucius' wand, Charity fell silent as if gagged. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of wizarding children, last week, Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance…she would have us all mate with muggles…or, no doubt, werewolves…"

Nobody laughed this time: there was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Tom's voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Snape. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Snape looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from him again.

"Severus please…." she gasped. "W-we're friends?"

"Avada Kedavra!" yelled Tom.

The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, on to the table, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his on to the floor.

"Dinner, Nagini," said Tom, softly, and the great snake swayed and slithered from his shoulders on to the polished table.

Once Nagini was finished, Tom declared that the Death Eaters were dismissed from the meeting. Several of them jumped to their feet to go and throw up. Others stuck around, pretending to desire more time with Tom. But Tom was not fooled. He motioned for Snape to follow him outside, which he did at once.

"I have been thinking," Tom began as they strode along the garden path, "That Hogwarts needs a replacement headmaster."

"Naturally," said Snape. "I expect it will be the deputy headmistress who will take Dumbledore's place."

"I expect not," said Tom.

"My lord?"

"_You_ will take Dumbledore's place, Severus."

Snape did not seem to comprehend and stared at Tom with much confusion.

"I already told you once before, Severus, that the defense against the dark arts teaching job is cursed and that no one lasts longer than a year."

"But…" said Snape, "Why me?"

Tom stopped walking and turned to look at Snape, smiling.

"Because you are my favourite," he replied, simply. "You were a great servant to me in the first war. You did not turn your back on me when I fell. You kept Dumbledore at your side and revealed all his secrets to me. And most importantly perhaps, you have given me what I have been waiting for my whole life…you have killed Albus Dumbledore. It is the best gift anyone has ever given me. The day you joined my ranks was a gift to my future, Severus."

"Your words are most kind, my lord," replied Snape.

"Good," said Tom, resuming the walk. "So you'll do it then?"

"Absolutely, my lord."

Tom paused.

"Thank you."

He would hate now to lose Snape and preferred to keep him in the safety net of Hogwarts. After all, Snape gave him a future, and Lord Voldemort was appreciative.

* * *

**Thanks and please review!**


	42. Ollivander's Lie

**Author's Note: Hope everyone had a great week and enjoy this chapter. My apologies for any mistakes, I haven't edited or proofread. My mind has been all over the place lately. Point anything out and I'll be happy to change it some other time. **

**Dedication: ****_AllInTheReads132_, thanks for reading and for your kind reviews! They're really appreciated. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_"...So you'll do it then?"_

_"Absolutely, my lord."_

_Tom paused._

_"Thank you."_

_He would hate now to lose Snape and preferred to keep him in the safety net of Hogwarts. After all, Snape gave him a future, and Lord Voldemort was appreciative..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 42: OLLIVANDER'S LIE**

"Come on! We've got to get out of here!"

"Can I get some bloody help over here? The man is bleeding on my shoulders!"

"What _was_ that curse they used on him?"

"I can't be sure but we better get him somewhere inside. Quick!"

"I did not expect this to happen."

"No, you bloody idiot, none of us expected it!"

"Alright, let's settle down!"

"Ugh, I can't hold him up."

"My lord, can we—uh, my lord?"

The remaining Death Eaters spun around the dark street, looking for Tom who, only moments ago, was standing right next to them. But Tom was already far from the dark street. He was flying with fury across fields and hills. He dashed across the city lights and forced himself through the protective enchantments around the residence. Finally, he dropped to his feet and stormed past the gates and up to the large manor. Nagini joined him as the front door flew open and Tom marched down the stairs towards the dungeons. Tom's thoughts were racing as the dungeon gates flew open at the flick of his wand. He was sure that there were people who had followed him downstairs but he didn't care to check who it was. He marched right up to the scrawny, pale-faced little wizard who had been sitting in the corner. Discarding his wand, Tom grabbed the wizard by the neck and threw him up against the wall. He glared into his eyes, standing inches from his face.

"I don't know! I r-really don't know! Please, please I beg of you, have mercy! Have mercy! I know nothing of it, I swear! I…I r-really thought a-another w-w-wand would w-work!"

Tom pushed him to another wall and hissed his snake-like hiss again. The underfed wizard cried out in pain. Behind him, Tom had heard a woman's gasp. Now he knew Narcissa Malfoy had followed him to the dungeons, no doubt to make sure that her precious home was just fine.

"You lied to me, Ollivander," Tom sneered. "You said another wand would work."

"I r-really thought another _would_ w-work, s-s-sir!" cried the old man.

Tom threw him against a pillar and the man whimpered.

"You're telling me that a wizard who is as old as time and who has done nothing but obsess over wands for the last hundred years did not know this would happen?" said Tom, in his cool, snake-like voice.

Nagini slithered at his feet, ready to attack Ollivander, the supposedly great wandmaker. She could already taste his blood in the air, but Tom knew she would not dare do anything without his command.

"I s-swear it," whispered Ollivander.

"I don't believe you," Tom whispered back.

And with that, he let go of Ollivander who dropped to his knees with a cry of pain. Trembling slightly, he crawled over to the corner and stared up at Tom who was eyeing him with deep disgust.

"You are a worthless half-blood," Tom declared, "But I will not yet kill you. I believe you can still be useful to me. You made Wormtail another wand. You told me about the twin cores with Potter's wand and mine. You are not completely useless, Garrick Ollivander."

"T-t-thank you," whispered the man.

"But I will not let you off that easy," Tom continued, as though the man had not spoken. "You have one week to come up with an explanation as to why Lucius' wand collapsed in my fingers the moment it connected with Harry Potter's wand. After that, you have an additional week to figure out an alternate solution to my problem. If you do not have an answer for me by that time, _then_ I will kill you."

Sneering again, Tom stormed past Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Severus and out of the dungeons.

The other Death Eaters from the Battle of the Seven Harrys had collapsed in the sitting room and were mending each other's various injuries. Tom stormed past them and into the garden. He stood in the cool night air and closed his eyes, taking very long breaths.

"My lord," Nagini hissed at his feet.

"What is it?" he said in a constricted voice.

"If he doesn't have an answer, can _I_ kill him instead?"

Tom opened his eyes and found Nagini instantly. He smiled softly at her.

"Of course you can, my lovely," he murmured.

Tom heard the door behind him open and close again, but he did need to turn around to know that it was Snape. Snape joined him at his side and stared off into the distant hills of the darkness, and for a long time, neither of them talked.

"So where do we stand, sir?" Snape finally said, in a very low voice.

Tom sighed.

"Mundungus Fletcher disappeared at the sight of me. One of the Harry Potters lost his ear, a few of them got scratched but nothing long-lasting, and—oh, that's right. Silly me, I almost forgot. Alastor Moody is dead."

"That, I know," said Snape. "The curse nearly hit me."

Tom chuckled lightly.

"Yes, I am truly sorry about that, Severus," he told him. "You know perfectly well by now that when I am excited about something…well, I don't really stop to think. I just go with my insticts."

"That's alright, sir," said Snape, with a light smile.

"It wasn't intentional, as I'm sure you know," Tom added. "I need my new headmaster, don't I?"

"Indeed."

Tom absentmindedly began his walk, with Snape at his side and Nagini not too far from them. They strode in silence for what seemed like hours, Tom all the while thinking back to the battle.

"Very clever, wasn't it?" he said after a while.

"What was, my lord?"

"To come up with something so intelligent and so sneaky…seven Potters."

"Ah," was all Snape said to that.

"It was very unexpected. I definitely underestimated the Order of the Phoenix; I am not ashamed to admit that to you, Severus."

"It definitely was a surprise," Snape agreed.

"Would you like to know my suspicions?" said Tom, coolly.

"Of course, my lord," said Snape at once.

Tom stopped walking and faced him.

"It was a very good trick—so good, that it almost felt like Dumbledore was behind it."

"But it's not possible, my lord," said Snape. "He is dead. He can't possibly have been behind it."

"Yes," agreed Tom, "I trust that you took care of that, Severus, which leads me to my second suspicion."

"Sir?"

"It was a sneaky tactic…very clever…definitely threw us off…it was not something we'd seen coming…almost like the work of a Slytherin."

"What do you mean to say, my lord?"

"I think someone in my ranks is working for the Order," said Tom, simply.

Snape's black eyes surveyed Tom's red ones, and for a while, the only sounds were Nagini's hisses.

"Why would Lucius betray us?" Snape whispered.

"I have tortured his family a great deal," Tom explained, "Maybe our old friend Lucius has decided they'll be better off on Dumbledore's side."

"My lord, I doubt this is the case," said Snape. "Lucius would not dare do such a reckless thing."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Tom raised his eyebrows.

"My lord, it's been a long night. You should get some rest."

"The Dark Lord doesn't rest," Tom declared.

"Not that you need it," Snape quickly added, "But it is encouraging. You'll be able to think better in the morning."

"I am perfectly fine, Severus," said Tom, with a slight smile. "I only just wished to express my concerns to you."

"And for that, I am grateful," said Snape, with a low bow to Tom.

"So you think it is a paranoid assumption then?" Tom continued.

Snape paused.

"I think it's worth investigating, of course. We don't want to be thwarted by yet another person."

"No," agreed Tom. "We do not. Investigate it, will you, Severus?"

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Tom, Severus, Mulciber, Yaxley and a few of the others subtly made their way over to the Ministry of Magic on the night of the first of August. With wands in the air, they set out various curses and jinxes, hitting many people and many things. Tom and Severus marched right up to the Minister's office. The door flew open. Rufus Scrimgeour only had time to widen his eyes before he was hit with the killing curse and his eyes shut instantly. The shouts and screams filled the halls. It was the most beautiful sound Tom had heard in ages. He was very pleased. They hadn't had a raid like this since the first war.

With Scrimgeour dead, Yaxley took control of Pius Thicknesse and used him as a puppet-like, substitute minister. Meanwhile, Yaxley himself took control as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Tom instructed his other Death Eaters to assume the positions of various other spots in the Ministry. Before he could even explain or lay down the new laws however, he felt the Dark Mark conjured, and disapparated right away.

"P-p-please, don't hurt me!" Rowle cried as Tom waved his wand and threw him backwards.

Rowle cursed out loud and cried in pain. Tom however was not finished.

"You called me here for nothing?!" he yelled. "Crucio!"

Rowle shrieked in pain and writhed on the stone-cold floors of the Malfoy residence. The others watched in fear and horror as Rowle was tortured.

"Please!" he begged.

Tom terminated the curse and glared down at him.

"You're a worthless piece of garbage, Rowle," he said, simply.

Rowle proceeded to cry but Tom was done with him and took a seat on one of the couches in the sitting room. No one dared to go help Rowle to his feet. After a while, his sobs quieted down. Severus however took a seat beside Tom and looked up at him.

"My lord?"

"We have taken control of the Ministry," said Tom. "Scrimgeour is dead."

"Is he really?"

Tom paused to take in these words. It was true. He really had seized control of the Ministry of Magic. After so many years of hard work, it was finally his. Oh, what he would give to see Dumbledore's face now. He never thought that Tom could do it. He never thought Tom was capable of it. Well, he couldn't have been more wrong, could he?

"Yes, Severus. And in light of this news, I expect you to make some revisions to the Hogwarts curriculum this year."

"Yes, sir," bowed Snape.

"Yaxley, you will do the same at the ministry," said Tom, lazily.

"Yes, sir," responded Yaxley, who seemed to be very glad of this new feeling of importance.

Tom sighed.

"Potter escaped the wedding ambush then?"

"Y-yes, my lord," answered Avery. " Dolohov and Rowle followed him, a Weasley, and a mudblood but I don't know where. It seems that memory charms have been placed on the both of them. They don't recall anything that has happened after the wedding. All they know is that they woke up in some muggle café and then they apparated here."

"Idiots," spat Tom. "What about the others?"

"We believe they have gone underground, my lord," explained Avery. "Into hiding."

"Yes, I expect they have," said Tom. "He managed to slip away again."

"Now that we have the ministry under our siege, it won't be long before he is captured," said Snape.

"That is true," agreed Tom. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape bowed.

"No one can know that Scrimgeour is dead," Tom told the others as they nodded in understanding. "Let them think he has..." he smiled, "...gone on a little vacation to escape the stresses of dealing with the Dark Lord."

The Death Eaters chuckled at Tom's humour.

"I expect that Harry Potter, being as nostalgic as he is, will want to spend some time around his dead godfather's house. Start monitoring it immediately."

"Yes, sir," the Death Eaters murmured.

"And Avery," said Tom, "Send out the Hogwarts invitations to all the Wizarding children. This includes Harry Potter, of course."

* * *

_MUGGLE-BORN REGISTER_

_The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called "Muggle-borns" to better understand how they came to possess magical secrets._

_Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force._

_The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission, head of which is former Undersecretary of the Minister, Dolores Jane Umbridge._

Smiling to himself, Tom put down that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet. His eyes met Snape's and he motioned for him to follow him out for another walk.

"Is everything alright, my lord?" Snape asked once they were out of earshot of the others.

Tom did not answer right away. Instead, he listened to what Nagini was saying. She was making some very good points as she hissed violently at his feet.

"...and I really don't think it's very fair that you don't grant me this," she concluded.

"I understand how you feel," Tom hissed back in Parseltongue. "And I will reconsider it."

"Good, because the mudbloods deserve it," she answered. "They shouldn't just be killed or imprisoned. _I_ should get to take care of them."

"I'll think about it, Nagini."

It was nearing the end of August. Tom was very pleased with how things had been going lately. Witches and wizards were submitting themselves for blood evaluation. The Hogwarts letters of mandatory attendance had been sent out. His Death Eaters were taking shifts outside of the old Black family house, though it was severely protected so they could not get inside. But, that also meant that no one could get outside. Still, even though things were now much better than they'd ever been, Tom found himself not yet fully satisfied.

"Are you not happy with what was in the Daily Prophet?" Snape asked him now as they walked along the grass.

Tom finally turned to him.

"No, no, it's not that," he replied. "It's a start of course, but a very slow start. I think we need to already start rounding up mudbloods."

"We will," confirmed Snape.

"But this is not what I dragged you out here for," said Tom. "You remember our previous conversation about a sneaky Slytherin?"

"Yes, my lord," said Snape at once. "It was not Lucius. Goyle mentioned that he and Lucius had spent the whole summer together. Lucius has not left the house once this entire summer. It could not—would not—be him."

"You're absolutely—?"

"Positive."

Tom narrowed his eyes but nodded.

"I see."

"My lord, I'm sure it was just the works of the Order," Snape offered.

Tom nodded.

"You've done excellent work thus far, Severus, thank you."

"Of course, my lord," Snape bowed again. "My lord—do you...do you think that maybe Potter will not return to Hogwarts this year?"

"I am sure of it," replied Tom.

"He'll be in hiding, of course, what with our new regime."

"Naturally."

"My lord...what do you think we should do? How should we go about finding him?"

"I think…" Tom knelt down to pat Nagini. "I think our friend Ollivander has some information."

* * *

"Tis known as the Legend of the Deathly Hallows…children from whole wizarding families grew up with the Tale of the Three Brothers. It can be found in the Tales of Beedle the Bard. F-f-forgive me, I am an old man and I do not exactly remember how the tale goes, but I do believe that the legend m-may be of use to y-y-you."

Tom stared at the trembling man crouched before him for a long time. Then, he turned to Narcissa Malfoy who avoided his eyes firmly.

"Bring the book," he instructed.

She bowed and then disappeared from the dungeons at once.

Without a glance at the man whimpering in the corner, Tom followed Narcissa out of the dungeons. The others followed him silently as well.

Back in the sitting room, Narcissa was shuffling through books on the shelf desperately. She looked to be in a sort of panic.

"I guess you are not a whole wizarding family after all, if you do not even possess this book that is supposedly so common amongst wizarding families," said Tom, slyly.

Narcissa shook her head in protest but continued to search for the book. Meanwhile, the others stood around nervously.

"Did you not read these tales to little Draco when he was young?" said Tom, who now sat on the arm of a chair, his wand still in his hand.

"Of course, my lord," replied Lucius, who put a hand on Narcissa's shoulder as she continued to search.

"Well, I must say I find that difficult to believe, since you can't even remember the story," said Tom.

He then turned to look at all the others.

"Does anyone here remember this Deathly Hallows story? Anyone at all?"

The silence was abysmal. Tom sneered again.

"You are all completely worthless," he muttered.

"I have it," said a voice from behind him.

Tom raised his eyebrows, sneered again, and turned around. Draco Malfoy was standing at the top of the stairs and holding up a small but fairly thick book in his hands.

"I have the Tales of Beedle the Bard."

* * *

**There are a few time jumps in this chapter, but it basically ends near the end of the summer. As you saw at the beginning, I decided to cut out the sky battle scene and just forward to the aftermath of it. We already know what happens. It's unnecessary to include. My purpose with this story, as you probably know well by now, is to expose Tom's thoughts about events. I promise I won't do the same with the Battle of Hogwarts. You'll see the whole thing. Sigh. Those are going to be four loooong chapters ;) **


	43. The Deathly Hallows

**Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

**Dedication: _The Single Fanboy_, thanks for being there from the very beginning and sticking by the story as I wrote. Very appreciated and thanks for always reviewing!**

**Thanks: _Kara Hall_, thanks for reading and for your reviews! **

* * *

_"...I have it," said a voice from behind him._

_Tom raised his eyebrows, sneered again, and turned around. Draco Malfoy was standing at the top of the stairs and holding up a small but fairly thick book in his hands._

_"I have the Tales of Beedle the Bard..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 43: THE DEATHLY HALLOWS **

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too treacherous to pass. But, being learned in the magical arts, the three brothers simply waved their wands and made a bridge. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. It was Death and he felt cheated, for travelers would normally drown in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the brothers and said that each had earned a wish for their cleverness.

The oldest, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence. So Death fashioned one from an elder tree on the banks of the river. The second brother asked for the power to recall loved ones from the grave. So Death plucked a stone from the river and offered it to him. Finally, Death turned to the third brother. A humble man, he asked for something that would allow him to go forth from that day and not be followed by Death. And so it was that Death reluctantly handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility. Death then stepped aside and the brothers went their separate ways.

The first brother traveled to a distant village where, with the Elder Wand in hand, he killed a wizard with whom he had once quarreled. Drunk with the power that the wand had given him, he bragged of his invincibility. But that night, another wizard crept upon him as he lay sleeping. He took the Elder Wand and slit the brother's throat for good measure. And so Death took the first brother for his own.

Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his home where he took out the stone and turned it thrice in hand. To his delight, the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared before him. Yet soon she turned sad and cold, for she did not belong in the mortal world. Driven mad with hopeless longing, the second brother killed himself so as to join her. And so Death took the second brother.

As for the third brother, Death searched for many years but was never able to find him. Only when he had attained a great age did the youngest brother shed the Cloak of Invisibility and give it to his son. He then greeted Death as an old friend and went with him gladly, departing this life, as equals."

* * *

Draco did not look up from the book, but slowly closed it in his lap and stared down at it. None of the Death Eaters spoke. They were too afraid to speak. Tom slowly rose from his seat and began to walk around the room, thinking. So there they were...the Deathly Hallows. The cloak, the stone, and the wand. In all his years at Hogwarts, he had never once heard of them. How very peculiar. To this day, magic was still finding its ways of surprising him. Tom chuckled.

The Death Eaters, all of them beyond confusion at his laughter, avoided his eyes but waited for him to say something. He did not. Instead, he retreated down to the dungeons, and this time, the others knew not to follow him.

"So tell me," he called out to the scrawny little wizard sitting in the shadowed corner and trembling, "Do they exist?"

The wizard hugged his knees and began to rock himself back and forth, but said nothing.

Tom raised his wand and pointed it at him.

"Do...they...exist?"

"N-no one knows f-for s-sure," the wizard answered.

"Are you lying to me again, Ollivander?" said Tom, who took a step towards him.

"I'm not!" the wizard said in a hoarse voice. "I swear, I don't have it!"

"I believe you don't have it," said Tom, coolly, "But that does not answer my question. I—"

"My lord!"

Tom turned around to find Avery standing at the foot of the stairs, looking somewhat frightened.

"My lord, S-Snape and Malfoy and the C-Carrows have to leave n-now. They asked me to t-tell you."

Tom glared at him and then turned back to Ollivander.

"I'll deal with you later," he hissed, before following Avery out of the dungeons.

* * *

_SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER_

_Severus Snape, long-standing Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was today appointed Headmaster in the most important of several staffing changes at the ancient school. Following the resignation of the previous Muggle Studies teacher, Alecto Carrow will take over the post while her brother, Amycus, fills the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor._

_In accordance with the new regime at the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts School is insisting on the required attendance of every magical child living in Great Britain. Children will be sorted on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It is there where it will be determined which of them belong at Hogwarts. _

The Death Eaters were all passing the newspaper around with gleeful smirks on their faces. Tom stood at the top of the stairs and watched them. He could understand it. Hogwarts, the Ministry. It was all under their control now. Of course they wanted to celebrate a little. But this was exactly how it happened last time. Things were going so well and they did nothing but celebrate. And that's why it all came toppling down. So no, Tom did not grant them permission to celebrate this time. Instead, he kept them busier than they'd ever been before.

Yaxley spent day and night at the Ministry training his heads of department under the newly affirmed wizarding laws. Tom had spent a good couple of days with Yaxley, explaining to him exactly what he wanted. And now, Yaxley was in charge of making it all happen.

The Muggle-Born Registrations were coming along perfectly. Pamphlets were being mailed to every wizarding household regarding the new regime. They taught that mudbloods are a danger to all who have magical blood. They went into great detail about the dangers that these mudbloods pose and how they must be terminated immediately. They emphasized that those who assisted mudbloods in hiding would be treated as equally guilty, for they would now be seen as blood traitors in the eyes of the Ministry.

The Daily Prophet began to list the names of the muggle-borns who'd failed to register with the commission. They were now on the "Wanted" list and their neighbours were instructed to hand them over to authorities. The Death Eaters were hard at work in trying to find these convicts. Between that and changing shifts outside of the Black family house, things were extremely busy.

By mid-September, Snape had already managed to change the entire Hogwarts curriculum. The Carrows were very helpful in keeping the subjects in line with the new teachings. Students were sorted on the Hogwarts Express platform and those of "irregular" blood were sent away for…rehabilitation, as Tom liked to call it. At least their statues made for splendid decorum in Nott's old mansion and all along Diagon Alley.

Tom's next outburst of anger occurred later in September when he read in the Daily Prophet that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger had managed to break into the Ministry of Magic and escaped as well. He of course summoned Yaxley over to the Malfoy house at once, and let him endure the evil wraths of the Cruciatus Curse. Tom had to be stopped by Avery because otherwise he would have killed Yaxley there and then. But he and Avery both knew that Yaxley was still very much needed, to keep things flowing on the politics end. So Tom kicked him hard and stormed out of the house, still raging with fury.

He was surprised to find that Avery followed him out. They hadn't been alone together since that day in the dungeons last year, when Avery had fought with Rowle. Tom took deep breaths and cursed out loud, while Avery waited. It was completely embarrassing, how Potter had managed to get in and get out without a scratch. What would people think? Lord Voldemort could not even sustain a petty little _teenager_!

"I never thought I'd come this far and still be unhappy, Avery," Tom said into the darkness.

Avery gave him a small smile.

"I always knew you'd get far. You have those leadership-type qualities built into your very skin."

Tom chuckled lightly and then took another deep breath.

"I'm grateful that you stopped me back there," he told Avery. "As much as I hate to admit it, I still need him around."

"That's why I did it," nodded Avery. "He's an idiot but he has his uses."

"Yes," agreed Tom. "I just really don't like getting bad news."

Avery bit his lip.

"Well then I'm afraid, I have to disappoint you again, my lord."

Tom looked up at him.

"Um… Ollivander doesn't look like he will last much longer…"

"Oh?"

"Yes, he's very underfed and the darkness of the dungeons is starting to take its toll on him—not that I care for his wellbeing of course," Avery added at the look on Tom's face, "But if you want to further question him, now is the time."

"Now, when I'm most angry and will not hesitate to kill him if he upsets me?" said Tom.

Avery smirked.

"I promise, I'll be there to stop you."

"Thank you, Avery."

Still raging slightly, though admittedly calmer now than before, Tom made his way over to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, with Avery at his heels. He marched right up to Ollivander and once again grabbed him by the neck and held him up against a wall.

"_Where is the Elder Wand?!_" he hissed.

"I…I don't k-know!" cried Ollivander, hoarsely.

Tom threw him against the wall again and again. The wizard cried in pain and whimpered.

"G-g-gregorovitch!" Ollivander cried. "A-ask him! H-he should k-know!"

Tom let go of Ollivander and once again he fell to the floor with a yell of pain.

"Gregorovitch?" Tom repeated.

"Mykew Gregorovitch," said Ollivander. "He should know where it is."

"Now was that so hard?" said Tom, and with a smirk, he and Avery left the dungeons.

It took some time to track down Gregorovitch. Tom journeyed south to his residence but was only greeted with some unimportant wizarding family that knew nothing of his whereabouts. Furious, Tom killed them all and continued his search for this wizard. Finally, sometime in November, Tom managed to locate him and instantly put him under the full body-bind curse. Gregorovitch struggled and cried out in pain as Tom cast Levicorpus on him as well. Finally, when Tom was finished torturing him, he knelt down beside him and looked him in the eyes.

"Tell me where it is," he hissed, angrily. "I need the Elder Wand. I know you have it so just hand it over."

"I d-don't have it anym-more!" cried Gregorovitch. Tom sneered and lifted his wand again. "I s-swear. It was s-stolen from m-me! Y-y-years ago!"

"_Who_ stole it?!" yelled Tom, who was growing very impatient.

Everything was going wrong lately. Everything. Potter was waltzing freely around the Ministry of Magic. Muggle-borns were hiding and refusing to register. And then there was this Quibbler newspaper that was writing some not very nice things lately, to contradict all that the Prophet was saying. Tom was at the height of his powers once again, and he felt even worse than he did before.

"WHO STOLE IT?!" he demanded again.

"The b-boy!" cried the wizard. "It was he who took it from me. I s-swear it on m-my life!"

Enraged to have exhausted months of effort to find Gregorovitch and learn that he was not any closer to the wand, Tom performed Legiliments on the wizard and searched through his mind until he located the memory of the night in question. A young man had indeed broken into Gregorovitch's shop and had indeed stolen the wand. And Gregorovitch indeed had no idea who this figure was, but only remembered his face.

Tom pulled out of his mind, rose to his feet, and smiled down at Gregorovitch.

"I believe you," he said.

"T-then p-p-please don't k-kill me," said Gregorovitch.

Ignoring him, Tom waved his wand and sent a jet of green light at the wizard. He yelled out and then became immobile. Still furious, Tom apparated to the hillside where he used to walk with Nagini. He spent the rest of the day there.

December soon stepped into play, bringing with it some chilly winds, some snow, and very little sun. The Death Eaters were still very active and busy as ever. They tried their hardest to please Tom but no matter what they did, he was still not satisfied. And it was all because of the Elder Wand.

He had not felt this obsessed about something since the first time he'd read about Horcruxes. It was the kind of obsession that took control of him completely. He thought of nothing else but the Elder Wand. The Death Stick. The ULTIMATE Murder Weapon. He wouldn't eat. He wouldn't sleep. Or, when he would sleep, he would dream about the wand. He wanted it. He needed it. He had to have it. And he would not rest until he had it.

As the weeks went by, Tom busied himself with learning more about Gellert Grindelwald. He could not believe that he had never read anything about him. Tom had been too busy in his own school years immersing himself in the dark arts that he'd never bothered reading up on anyone else that had done the same. According to the many historic books that he could find at Malfoy Manor, Gellert Grindelwald had been, apart from himself, the darkest wizard of all time. He was schooled at Durmstrang Institute until his expulsion. At some point, he moved to a village called Godric's Hollow where he befriended Dumbledore. Together, they plotted to rise in power and lead a revolution with the aim of ending the international Statute of Secrecy.

Tom became very interested in reading up on this and did nothing but read for all of the month of December, while his Death Eaters worked endlessly with the movement, captured and killed as many muggle-borns as they could track down, and continued to enforce the new laws. Tom spent most of the month shut up in the Malfoy Manor sitting room, reading.

After all the reading and research that he'd done on Gellert Grindelwald the last couple of months, Tom found himself thinking a lot about what could have been, had they been born into the same generation. What would they have amounted to, together? They had so many things in common. So much that could have been. But he agreed that it was not his style. He worked solo. Always had. That was the difference between them. Grindelwald sounded like he needed Dumbledore, and Tom knew that he most definitely did not need him.

Grindelwald and Dumbledore had apparently been best buds for years and years, both of them sharing the passion to rise up in the wizarding world. However, they clearly had different ideas of what that would entail and began to fight amongst each other. This led to an argument which ended the life of Dumbledore's sister Ariana. Growing bored with this information, Tom skipped ahead to more about Grindelwald himself. Apparently, after this falling out with Dumbledore, Grindelwald busied himself with the dark arts and began to pursue the Hallows. He tracked down Gregorovitch and stole the Elder Wand from him, proceeding to use it for his own needs. He was definitely notorious and participated in many famous killings. He even established a power base in continental Europe at the fortress Nurmengard. However, in 1945, when he was at the height of his power, he was confronted by none other than Dumbledore, who defeated him in what was thought to have been a legendary duel. Grindelwald was subsequently imprisoned in his own fortress for decades.

"Ugh!" cried Bellatrix as she shoved the Quibbler from her lap angrily.

Tom looked up from his book. He eyed the headlines which she had been reading and smiled to himself.

ALLEGED MURDERER IN CHARGE OF YOUR CHILDREN!- more on Severus Snape

SCRIMGEOUR DISAPPEARS!

WIZARDS INVADE GRINGOTTS!

DEATH EATER ATTACKS ON MUGGLES

WIZARDING WIRELESS SAVED BY UNDERGROUND BROADCASTS?

"What does Wizarding Wireless mean?" he asked Bellatrix lazily.

"It's an underground network that has been established by the blood traitors, my lord," answered Narcissa Malfoy, who was sitting on the other side of the room with her husband.

Tom nodded and looked back at his book. It was the thirteenth of December. Tom was in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor with a couple of his Death Eaters. They had just had dinner and all were now keeping to themselves. Tom had spent the entire day reading and was continuing to do so now. Greyback was sitting in the corner, talking to Wormtail. Narcissa and Lucius were in another corner. Bellatrix was beside Tom. Rowle and Avery were playing cards (they seemed to have become best buds since Rowle's recent memory modification) and Rabastan and Rodolphus were arguing about something. Nott and Mulciber were still eating at the table and Rookwood was also somewhere there, lurking.

"I see they still haven't learned, have they?" said Tom.

"No, my lord," Lucius answered. "They use it to keep contact with each other and monitor any news. We…we've tried tracking it but…it's very well p-protected, my lord."

"I see," was all Tom had to say to that.

_Gellert Grindelwald was a notorious wizard, not known for murdering but more for conquering. It is believed that one of his many life goals was to obtain the Resurrection Stone (from the famous Tale of the Three Brothers) in order to raise an army of inferi. However, few believe that he ever actually succeeded in doing so. Nonetheless, he continued to dive so far into the Dark Arts, encouraging his withdrawal from the long-time friendship with Albus Dumbledore. _

_Like many other wizards in history, Grindelwald felt the pull of the Dark Arts and thought of nothing else. He, like so many others, became very interested in the famous Deathly Hallows and sought them out in order to become the Master of Death. After all, it was he who appropriated the runic symbol of the Deathly Hallows as his own personal emblem. It was also engraved on the walls of Durmstrang Institute prior to his departure. _

"We should do something about this," said Greyback as he scanned the article in the Quibbler as well. "It's preposterous!"

Tom laughed out loud.

"Look at you, using such big words," he commented once he'd calmed down.

Greyback growled but said nothing.

"If something needs to be done, then let it be done," said Tom, simply, looking at the group sitting in the room with him. "Don't you all have better things to do than sit here and wait for me to instruct you? There are mudbloods out there hiding. Find them. Kill them. Kill anyone and everyone who opposes the movement. Show them that we mean business."

"Y-yes, my lord," they said in unison.

Rolling his eyes at them, Tom returned to his book and eyed the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. He ran his ice-cold, pale finger along it and frowned. He had seen that symbol before…in Dumbledore's office back at Hogwarts. All those times that he had been called there for interrogation and he had never thought to ask Dumbledore the meaning of this symbol. He could've known all of this information long ago. He could've started his quest for the Deathly Hallows _years_ ago.

Feeling slightly displeased, he shut the book aggressively and threw it to the other side of the room, frightening some of the Death Eaters.

"My lord," said Avery, taking a seat next to Tom. "How can I help? What can I do?"

"There is nothing you can do, Avery," said Tom, lazily. "Unless you have information as to how I could find Gellert Grindelwald…"

"Grindelwald?" repeated Avery. "Why do you wish to seek him, my lord?"

"Reasons," replied Tom.

Avery thought for a moment and then leaned closer to Tom.

"I'm not sure if this will be of any help, but I read somewhere that Grindelwald met Dumbledore in Godric's Hollow, where he was staying with the old historian Bathilda Bagshot."

"Yes, I know that, Avery," said Tom, heaving a deep sigh.

"Well, perhaps interrogating her would be a start," suggested Avery.

Tom frowned into the fireplace and nodded slowly. Bathilda Bagshot. The name was familiar, but where from? He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Thank you, Avery," he said as he rose to his feet and retreated to bed.

"My lord!" said Nott just before Tom disappeared at the top of the stairs.

Tom turned around to look at him.

"Xenophilius Lovegood is the editor in chief of the Quibbler," he said, nervously. "W-what shall we do with him?"

"Kill him," said Tom simply. "Find him and kill him."

"But…my lord, with all due respect…wouldn't that be too easy?"

"Death is the worst punishment, Nott."

"Still…shouldn't we m-maybe do something w-worse?"

"Like?"

"I was hoping you'd be able to come up with something…you…you have a great imagination in that sense, my lord."

Tom smiled. He thought for a moment, and then turned to Narcissa.

"He has any children?" he asked her.

"Y-yes, my lord," she said, confused. "A daughter in Draco's year I think...or perhaps a year younger."

"Good," said Tom, turning his back to them. "Kidnap her."

* * *

He was back in the orphanage. Mrs. Cole and Billy and the others were laughing about something in the dining room. Tom was in second year. He had just returned from Hogwarts and was stuck in his little basement room, holding his Hogwarts letter in his little hands. He looked like his muggle father again. He was young again, but he also had his memories intact…his entire life stored in his brain. He got up and began to pace around the room. This was another dream, wasn't it? Yes. He was sure of it. Any minute now, his Death Eaters' childish forms would appear before him and would start singing and dancing again, and yell that he'd ruined all of their lives. The dead forms of all his victims would appear before his eyes. As usual. How many times had he already had this dream? Three? Four?

Tom stopped before the mirror and glared at his young reflection. It was disgusting. After all the magical transformations that he'd undergone, he still remembered what he'd originally looked like, and the thought of it was still sickening to this day.

A strange force began to pull at Tom. He felt as though he was forcefully being dragged out of his dream. However, just before the peak—seconds before he felt himself vanish—he spotted the thing that he had come back there for. An old, dusty, thick book was on the floor by his old bed…a book that he had taken interest in very early on. He looked down at it, smiled broadly, and then disappeared, waking in his other bed in Malfoy Manor.

Nagini slithered over on to him to see what had happened because Tom was sweating again. But he only smiled at her. _Hogwarts: A History_ had been written by Bathilda Bagshot. That was where he knew her from. And it was most definitely a useful piece of literature. He felt sure now that she would be useful to him once he tracked her down.

Tom turned to Nagini and stroked her.

"I have a job for you, my sweetheart."

* * *

**Note: There. Two updates in one weekend. Enjoy.**

**Oh, and about next week's update, I'll tell you this much: the entire chapter is a conversation in Parseltongue ;) **

**A question for you guys; do you think Tom and Grindelwald would have been even more dangerous as a team? Would the Wizarding World be in total trouble if they were born into the same generation and worked together? **


	44. Nagini's Tale

**Behold...a chapter in Parseltongue. I hope you like the unique way I've decided to report on the events of Godric's Hollow. **

**Dedication: _MapleLeaf40_, thanks so much for your reviews and for sticking by the story this far! I hope you fix your account problem soon so we can PM. Also, I love your story idea and I added it to my list of future fics (on my profile) so thank you! Also, to answer your question, Draco read The Tale of the Three Brothers to all the Death Eaters in the room (including Tom) out loud. Yeah, I know...a little awkward. Storytime for the bad guys, right? Ahaha but I just felt like giving that job to Draco. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy this chapter! **

* * *

_...Tom turned to Nagini and stroked her._

_"I have a job for you, my sweetheart..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 44: NAGINI'S TALE**

The cliff had not changed in the slightest since Tom had last been there. His long black cloak flowed as he walked across the snow in the cool night. He slowly rotated his ordinary wand in his long white fingers and kept his head bowed beneath the hood of the cloak. And as he walked, his mind wrapped around one thing and one thing only…what was taking Nagini so long?

After a little while, Tom grew restless and took a seat on the snowy cliff. He laid his wand in his lap and stared at it for a long time. He had had this wand for so long. This wand had gotten him through his Hogwarts years, adult life, and the first war. This wand had led to his destruction at Godric's Hollow. This wand was returned to him during his exile in Albania. Before Harry Potter, this wand had never failed him. But ever since that night sixteen years ago, the wand was a stranger to him. And soon, it would be replaced.

Another hour passed and still, Nagini had not shown up. Tom only hoped that everything went alright. If something had happened to her, he would have felt it, wouldn't he? Then again, he hadn't felt anything when his diary was destroyed down in the Chamber of Secrets a couple of years back. It was incredible how magic was still finding its ways of surprising him. He had conquered everything magical that there could possibly be. He had gone so far in the dark arts, learned everything there was to learn in his Hogwarts years, but that still did not seem to be enough.

Last Christmas, Tom had had that horrible nightmare for the first time—the one with his main Death Eater group having a meeting with him in their youthful forms. The nightmare always ended with Dumbledore's laughter ringing in Tom's ears as he watched the bodies of his victims pile all around him. He had not had that dream for several months now, which was good. But there was the possibility that he would have it again tonight. He wished he could blame Dumbledore for this.

At the stroke of midnight, Nagini finally turned up on the cliff. With a slow whooshing sound, she materialised out of thin air and slithered her away across the snow over to where Tom was seated. It took a full minute before he realised that she was covered in blood. At once, he began to mutter an incantation to relieve her. She hissed violently at the pain of it but once Tom was done, she relaxed a bit.

"What happened?" Tom hissed as she coiled around him and rested. "Tell me, my sweetheart, what happened in Godric's Hollow?"

* * *

"The boy and the filthy mudblood arrived at the graveyard just as I was taking a walk. When they saw who they thought was Bathilda Bagshot, they immediately followed."

"So they were looking for someone then," said Tom in his perfect Parseltongue.

"Or something," suggested Nagini. "But I brought them back to the house. I showed them around and they sat with me."

"What happened next?"

"The boy asked me to identify someone in a photograph the old hag had laying around."

Tom frowned.

"Grindelwald."

"Yes…in his younger form."

"What then, Nagini?"

"I spoke to the boy. He didn't seem to realize he was speaking my language. I told him I had something very interesting to show him in the other room. He followed, and then I transformed back into myself."

Nagini stopped mid-thought because a dark shadow seemed to illuminate over Tom.

"He speaks it?" he said in a very quiet voice.

"He does, master."

"I...had no idea...that he speaks it," said Tom.

"Oh, he speaks it, alright," said Nagini, who was not understanding Tom's shock at all.

He stared on, trying to wrap his mind around this new information. Could it be that the boy had not only thwarted him that night, all those years ago, but also obtained some of his powers? Tom had had his Death Eaters trace the Potter bloodline back in the first war and there was no relation between Tom and the boy. One did not simply learn Parseltongue. They inherited it. So how then, could it be that the boy had this gift?

Tom turned back to Nagini.

"How long did the potion last you then?"

"About a couple of hours."

"What then, Nagini?"

"I began to attack, of course, what else?"

Nagini laughed and slid off Tom. He got to his feet at once, pocketed his wand, and began to follow her as she slithered her way across the snow.

"Did he do this to you?" said Tom, thinking of the blood from moments ago.

"I'm not sure who cast the spell—him or the mudblood, but yes, they did this to me."

"I didn't feel anything," said Tom, confused.

"That's because I wasn't killed," said Nagini, smartly. "If I had been killed, then you would have felt something, I think."

"What else, Nagini? What else happened? Did they take anything?"

"The mudblood took a book with her…Dumbledore was on the cover of it. And the boy's wand snapped in half as they left."

"He'll find another one soon," said Tom, mostly to himself. "He's not stupid enough to go walking around without a wand."

"Well, I don't know where they apparated to, if that's what you're asking," said Nagini.

Tom smiled down at her.

"It's alright; something tells me they will appear out of hiding again soon enough."

"Here's to hoping."

Tom suddenly stopped walking and stared off into the distant hills of snow, thinking.

"Nagini," he whispered, "What did she tell you?"

"Bathilda? She gave me vague instructions to the fortress where Grindelwald resides."

Tom turned to look at her with awe.

"Did she really?"

"Yes, master. I will show you to it when I am well, but I expect it'll take a while for you to find it."

"Thank you, Nagini. You have been most useful to me. And the day we met was a gift to my future. It really was."

Tom sat down again and began to pat her. She enjoyed this very much and calmed down a bit. She was no longer shaken from the attack and did not have a trace of blood on her.

"What are you thinking, sire?" she asked after a long moment's silence.

"I'm thinking…" said Tom, "…about Gallert Grindelwald. I'm curious to know what he is like…if he has heard of me, after all those years' imprisonment. I'm curious what he thinks of me and how he will react to my journeying to see him."

"He sounds a lot like you," said Nagini.

"He does," said Tom. "I hate that."

"I'd have thought you would actually be pleased," said Nagini.

"Pleased?" said Tom, scoffing. "I am extraordinary. I don't like the idea of someone out there having tried to do what I have done. I don't like people trying to copy me. Tis unoriginal."

"If you say so," muttered Nagini.

Tom pinched her and she squirmed, but said nothing.

"Anyway," he continued after a pause, "I have high hopes for obtaining the Elder Wand once I go to see Grindelwald. And once I have it, there will be no need for my own wand." Tom chuckled. "I see, as Harry Potter has had to get rid of his original wand, I will have to get rid of mine. We really do have many resemblances."

"That's not funny, master," muttered Nagini, but Tom pretended not to hear her.

"We're both half-bloods, we were both raised parentless, we both went to Hogwarts…"

"Stop it!"

"…we both speak Parseltongue. We…"

"Enough!"

A sick smile crossed Tom's face as he considered Nagini.

"What, Nagini? You don't like your master's many resemblances with his nemesis?"

"I like everything about master!" she defended herself.

"Right answer," said Tom, casually.

"So what now, sire?" said Nagini after another moment's silence.

Tom gave a sort of shrug and sighed.

"What's on your mind, master?"

"To be honest?" hissed Tom. "Severus. Severus is on my mind."

"What about him?"

"I don't want to doubt him. He is my most trusted follower…a fierce friend. If it weren't for the cruelty of time, I would keep him around always."

"But…?"

Tom paused.

"But I can't help but wonder if he knew the boy could speak Parseltongue."

"Ah," said Nagini. "If I could ask, master—so what if he knew? What difference does it make?"

"All the difference in the world," said Tom, who was a little surprised at Nagini. "I trust Severus to tell me important details like these."

"Maybe he never found out?"

"I don't know," said Tom, thoughtfully. "Something tells me he knew."

"A voice inside your head again?" said Nagini, lazily.

"Intuition," corrected Tom.

"Ah," said Nagini.

Tom could feel a kind of pain in the pit of his stomach again. He associated this pain with nervousness…the kind of nervousness he'd felt on the morning of his destruction, sixteen years ago. He could remember that day very quickly…the weird dream that he'd had…the strange feeling inside him all day…the voice that told him not to do it. But he was on top of the world now. He had the Ministry of Magic, Gringotts Bank, the whole of Diagon Alley, and Hogwarts under his control. He had an army full of equipped and hardened Death Eaters. He had Dumbledore in his grave. So why was he getting this feeling again?

"Perhaps, Severus thought it was an unimportant detail after all," said Tom, finally.

"Perhaps," agreed Nagini. "Hey, I thought Avery was your best servant."

"No," said Tom, with a small smile, "Avery has not been my best for a long, long time."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know," said Tom, truthfully. "I remember a time when I had high hopes for him. But I admit now, he has disappointed me a great deal."

"Because he didn't come back for you when you were away?"

"That is part of it, yes."

"But Snape also didn't come back."

"Snape was busy doing what I'd asked him to, Nagini. You know that."

"If that's your reason," she said. "Anyway, what has been happening back here, since I've been away?"

"Not much," said Tom, truthfully. "The usual, you know?"

"Have you gotten a hold of Lovegood?"

"Ah yes, we certainly have," said Tom, proudly. "Avery and the others are keeping the girl locked up in the dungeons."

"At Malfoy Manor?"

Tom nodded.

"Is she delicious?" said Nagini. "Does she smell good? I need to refuel after the catastrophe with Bagshot. She wasn't very appetising."

Tom smiled.

"We will keep her in captivity for the time being, my sweetheart."

Nagini grunted.

"My sweetheart," Tom began, "You know you are my favourite one, right? I plan to keep you around for a very long time. And when the time comes, I shall get rid of Harry Potter once and for all. That day is going to be a good day for the both of us. We are going to officially start our lives then. We will live worry-free, at the top of the world, for the rest of time. That is going to be a very good day for us."

"You promise?" said Nagini, childishly. "It'll just be you and me? You promise?"

Tom leaned closer to her.

"I swear."

"Good," said Nagini, who finally seemed to be satisfied.

"Good," said Tom. "Now that we have that settled, tell me, Nagini. Tell me about Grindelwald's fortress."

* * *

**Thanks: All the guest reviews, you didn't leave your names so I can't personally dedicate to anyone but all the unsigned guest reviews, I read each and every one so thank you so much for the kind words! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story and hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! **

**_Rubychanel_, thanks for your reviews and for your support! It's very much appreciated! And hope your examinations went well. **


	45. The Elder Wand

**Author's Note: I'm really excited about this chapter because it marks Tom's meeting with the Great Gellert Grindelwald. I really wanted to nail it and make it an incredible exchange because it's two amazingly powerful wizards in history meeting for the very first (and last) time. I think it's such an important historic moment and I really wanted to get it right so please let me know what you thought of it! **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_"...You promise?" said Nagini, childishly. "It'll just be you and me? You promise?"_

_Tom leaned closer to her._

_"I swear."_

_"Good," said Nagini, who finally seemed to be satisfied._

_"Good," said Tom. "Now that we have that settled, tell me, Nagini. Tell me about Grindelwald's fortress..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 45: THE ELDER WAND**

After Christmas, Tom spent every awaked minute searching for Grindelwald's fortress. The last time that something had been so important to him was just two years before, when he'd been dead set on finding that prophecy again. Now, he was too determined to give up. He had to get his hands on that wand.

By early spring, the Death Eaters placed a taboo on the name Voldemort so that if anyone anywhere uttered it aloud, their location would be exposed to them at once. Tom thought it was a brilliant plan and awarded his Death Eaters with a little dinner party at Malfoy Manor…just like old times. Everyone, including Draco who came home for the Easter holidays, was there for the celebrations. That is, everyone excluding Severus and the Carrows, who were hard at work keeping Hogwarts in line.

If there were currently any mudbloods out there, they were deep in hiding. All witches and wizards were under curfew so that the Death Eaters could patrol the streets of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. The ministry itself had increased its protection so that if any person with muggle blood should enter, the alarms would go off at once. Gringotts bank had also increased its security significantly.

On March 3rd, when he was already overwhelmed with exhaustion in looking for Grindelwald, Tom finally found his way to the Fortress of Nurmengard, where it was rumoured that Grindelwald was held in captivity. Rotating his wand between his long-fingered hands, Tom freely waltzed into the fortress and looked around. It was an extremely old fortification and he doubted that any life still existed there. Feeling slightly nervous that he'd traveled all this way for nothing, Tom proceeded to climb the stairs, keeping his eyes wide alert. It was only after twenty minutes of searching the residence that he finally found a dungeon-like room protected by some heavy enchantments. Mustering all his magical strength, he broke through the magical barriers and let himself into the room. And there he was.

Sitting in the corner, grey-haired and wrinkled, eyes clouded completely, was the once great Gellert Grindelwald. He eyed Tom for a brief minute before his lips curled into a smile that revealed ugly yellow and silver teeth.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he said, brightly. "We meet at last."

"So we do," said Tom, who looked him up and down.

"Sit, sit," said Grindelwald. "Won't you join me, Tom?"

"I'm afraid, I'm on a bit of a tight schedule, Grindelwald," said Tom.

"Oh please, call me Gellert," said Grindelwald, happily.

Tom stared at him with disgust as Grindelwald proceeded to tell a story about how he'd always preferred to be called by his first name and had quarrelled with the Durmstrang teachers far too many times because of it. Tom could hardly believe that someone who had once been so powerful, so great, and so invincible, had succumbed to this nothingness. Tom stared at him with pity, confusion, anger, and pure disgust. And then, his heart seemed to stop. Had he, Lord Voldemort, looked like this only 3 years ago? Wormtail had never placed him in front of a mirror so he'd never truly seen his reflection. He knew he'd been ugly and far less worthy of a lord's appearance, but had it been _this _bad?

"What?" said Grindelwald, who finally noticed the look on Tom's face. "Is there something in my hair?"

Grindelwald ran his bony fingers through his head of grey hair and then let out an awful laugh. Tom sneered.

"I have come here, as I'm sure you know, for a very specific reason, Gellert Grindelwald," began Tom, but he stopped just as quickly because Grindelwald raised his head suddenly and eyed the ceiling.

"Do you hear that?" he said, nervously. "I hear birds. Do you hear that, Tommy?"

Tom stared. He was in complete and utter shock. _This_ was what had become of a once amazing wizard?! Then again, after being locked up for so long, one would have to have no choice but go mental, wouldn't they? But Tom had to admit, he'd expected far more from the so-called Great Gellert Grindelwald.

"Do you know who I am, Gellert Grindelwald?" he asked, seriously.

Grindelwald laughed again and then screwed up his face to complete and total seriousness. He looked up at Tom and bore his own silvery eyes into Tom's red ones.

"Yes," he said, very slowly. "Yes, I know who you are."

"I know you know my real name," said Tom, "But do you know who I am today?"

"Absolutely," said Grindelwald. "You're Voldemort."

Tom frowned.

"Does the name mean nothing to you?"

"Nope!" said Grindelwald, and just like that, he burst out laughing at his little joke.

Tom decided that he'd had enough. He'd had so much respect for this wizard as he sat in the Malfoys' living room, reading up on him. But now, all that was gone. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at Grindelwald's chest. At the sight of it, Grindelwald burst into even harder laughter than before. Tom glared at him.

"Do you fear death, Gellert Grindelwald?" he asked.

"Nope," said Grindelwald. "In fact, I welcome death! Kill me, Voldemort. Go on, do it! But my death will not bring you what you seek, for you see, there is so much you do not understand…so much you do not know…"

"Humour me," said Tom, and he closed the dungeon door and sat with his back to it, across from Grindelwald, his wand still pointed firmly at him.

"You want to hear a story?!" said Grindelwald, with as much excitement as any child.

"I have come a long way," said Tom, "For a very specific reason which I can tell you already know. So just give it to me straight."

"Alright," said Grindelwald. "You have my word, Tommy, I'll tell you everything I can." He crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and took a long and deep breath. Then, he opened his eyes and found Tom sitting in front of him again. "There is nothing that you can say or do that will make me tell you where it is."

Tom glared at him and just like that, Grindelwald burst into laughter once again.

"I'm sorry," he said, after he'd calmed down a bit. "I'm sorry; it's just too bloody ridiculous!"

"What is?" said Tom, who was not amused whatsoever.

"How low you will stoop to get that bloody thing," said Grindelwald, who by now already had tears in his eyes. "You don't get it, do you, Tom? This is where it ends. You have reached the end of the line and there is no other side. You're finished. Done. Poof!"

"But you are SO WRONG!" cried Tom, and he jumped to his feet and pointed his wand at Grindelwald again. "You are completely wrong because, as I'm sure you know by now, when I want something done, I get it done. I am a very stubborn and determined wizard. I do not give up on things. If I had, I would not have gotten this far in my career."

"Right, right," said Grindelwald, who was nodding along now. "The uh…Dark Lord, they call you, is that right?"

"Yes," hissed Tom. "I have gone further than you ever have. Do you know, I killed Dumbledore."

"Right," said Grindelwald, who looked slightly curious now. "Poor Albus, you know, he was my best friend. He really was. I was sorry to hear that he died."

"You think this is just a joke, Grindelwald?" said Tom, snapping his fingers in front of Grindelwald's face.

"Nope," said Grindelwald. "I take you very, very seriously, Tommy."

"I have conquered _immortality_, Gellert," hissed Tom. "Do you know what that means for me?"

"What?" said Grindelwald, who was very amused now.

"It means that I have a never-ending life ahead of me, with which I can achieve and accomplish so much."

"Ah," said Grindelwald. "Well, good luck with that."

"I do not need luck; I need information," declared Tom. "And since you are unwilling to give that to me, perhaps a dose of pain ought to do it."

"Go ahead," said Grindelwald, happily.

Frowning slightly, Tom pointed his wand and watched the smile fade from Grindelwald's face as the pain of the Cruciatus curse befell him. His eyelids forced themselves shut and he brought his hands to his stomach and kneeled over to the floor, bending so low that his forehead actually touched it. After a couple of more seconds, Tom withdrew the curse and Grindelwald let out a deep breath.

"Ready to talk now?" said Tom, simply, and he knelt down beside Grindelwald and stared at him.

Grindelwald grunted and let out a few more deep breaths. He raised his body then and sat back up against the wall like before, closing his eyes.

"Go on, tell me where it is," said Tom. "Tell me who possesses it."

Grindelwald breathed in and out and in and out again and again. Finally, after a couple of more long minutes (during which Tom tried his best to be patient), Grindelwald opened his eyes again and found Tom's. He looked up at him simply for a few seconds and then let out a smile and another giggle.

Tom smiled as well.

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope!"

In a fit of anger, Tom kicked him hard in the face and sprung to his feet. He paced for a couple of seconds around the small cellar and then turned back to Grindelwald and pointed his wand at him.

"Perhaps another dose of pain, then? That ought to loosen your tongue."

Grindelwald laughed again.

"You still don't get it, do you, Tommy?"

Tom stared.

"You can do whatever you want to me and I still will never ever tell you where it is so just go ahead and do your worst. I do not care for death anymore. I welcome death! In fact, you'd be doing me a favour, mate!"

"Yeah?" said Tom. "We'll see."

He pointed his wand again at Grindelwald, with every bit of determination in his bones to kill him right there and then. Grindelwald however, smiled sweetly up at Tom. Tom decided he'd had enough. The man wasn't going to cave so there was no use for him anymore. And all Tom wanted was to wipe that stupid smile off of his face. And the next minute, he did.

* * *

Tom paced up and down the cliff, cursing aloud and setting various jets of light from his wand. They hit different spots of grass and caused this to explode. Nagini was back at home so she wasn't there to scold Tom for nearly killing her. He paced and paced, his mind swirling with a mixture of anger and a bucketful of memories. It was all rotating in his mind over and over again. He was getting dizzy. His head was pounding. He let himself fall to the grass and breathed.

_"My death will not bring you what you seek."_

The echoes were ringing in his ears now.

_"Tell me, Grindelwald, tell me who possesses it."_

_"Grindelwald met Dumbledore in Godric's Hollow, my lord."_

_"…dived so far into the Dark Arts, encouraging his withdrawal from the long-time friendship with Albus Dumbledore…"_

_ "Dumbledore is best known for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in the legendary 1945 duel."_

_"There is so much you do not know, Tommy boy."_

_"Curiosity is not a sin, Tom, but you should exercise caution." _

Tom's heart must have stopped for a good thirty seconds because he began to sweat. He jumped to his feet and wasted no time in disapparating from the clifftop. Somewhere in the confusion of the apparition however, he switched to flying and continued to swear aloud as he made his way over to the place so full of memories. He flew over the hilltops, the cliffs, the trees, and the lake until he reached the shore. He landed on his feet with a light thud and looked around the dawn of the morning.

The White Tomb was situated just on the shore of the lake by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A sick smile crossed Tom's face as he rotated his own wand in his fingers and began to slowly approach the tomb. He let out a cold laugh before he waved his wand, causing the tomb to crack open. He flicked his wand again and removed the white sheets covering the deceased body of Albus Dumbledore. Tom eyed him for a long time. He lay there, useless and helpless as ever…just the way Tom had always viewed him. And then his eyes flicked to something resting in Dumbledore's hands.

There it was. The historic, magnificent, glorious Elder Wand, hidden in the hands of a dead man. Tom leaned forwards and eyed Dumbledore's face carefully.

"Hello again, Dumbledore," he said, letting out a vicious laugh.

He then reached over with his own white fingers and gently pulled the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's grip. His smile broadened and he leaned out of the tomb and took a few steps back from it, all the while eyeing the beautiful object in his hands. It was glorious. It was magnificent. And at long last, after months' worth of search, it was _his_!

Tom spent the next month and a half travelling. He travelled far and wide, and experimented with the Death Stick that he had finally (at long last!) gotten his hands on. It was a miracle worker…absolutely…amazing…magic. So beautiful that Tom had already completely forgotten about his other wand. He did not care in the slightest about it. All he cared about was that when he finally faced Harry Potter once again, he would be no match for the great and powerful Lord Voldemort.

On the first of May, Tom decided to return to Malfoy Manor and see his Death Eaters again. He was prepared to give them the good news. He reached Malfoy Manor just as the sun had fully risen. He casually walked through the front gates and let himself in through the front doors. He climbed the steps and made his way over to the sitting room. His happiness however ended abruptly as he reached the opened door and saw that the long dining table had been removed from the center of the room, and his main Death Eaters (as well as a few goblins and Gringotts workers) stood together, each looking as frightened as the next. The Malfoys and Bellatrix were standing in the other corner of the room, also looking quite frightened. Tom's smile faded.

"What is this?" he asked the Malfoys, gesturing at the crowd of Gringotts Bank workers.

"M-m-my lord," said Lucius.

But Tom was not feeling patient that morning. He performed Legiliments on Lucius to speed up the process of finding out what had happened. And what he saw inside his mind disturbed Tom a great deal.

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger had been captured in the woods by some snatchers the same night Tom had gone to Gellert Grindelwald's fortress. The three had been brought back to Malfoy Manor where Bellatrix had interrogated and tortured them. However, by some miracle, they escaped once again, before the Malfoys could even call Tom to the scene.

Lucius' memories drifted now to the present. Tom glimpsed the inside of Gringotts bank, and then a headline in a newspaper about a break-in at one of the vaults. The guarding dragon had been set free and the Death Eaters had brought that day's workers to Malfoy Manor.

Tom withdrew from Lucius' mind and, in a violent rage of fury, waved the Elder Wand in the air. The Malfoys instinctively fell to the ground and shielded themselves as the string of curses erupted from Tom's mind and flew in all directions, shattering windows and chandeliers. Crystals were flying everywhere. There were shrieks of pain as Tom let out a few _Crucio_'s. By the time he was finished, each and every one of those Gringotts workers was lying on the ground, dead. Tom took a few deep breaths and stepped backwards. His eyes found Bellatrix'.

There was a mixture of fear, frustration, grief, and sorrow in her eyes. She looked back at Tom as though she was looking at her maker. Perhaps, she thought she was about to. But Tom was too lost for words or actions. He was too confused. Lucius' mind had clearly shown Tom that Harry Potter and his friends had broken into a very specific vault at Gringotts and stolen something…and the fact that this vault belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange was not a good sign for dear Bella…or Tom, for that matter.

* * *

**Please review with your thoughts on the exchange between Tom and Grindelwald. I'm really curious as to what you thought! **

**Also, I'd like to thank _Hunter_ for reading and for all your reviews. I read each one and I'm glad you like the story. Thank you! **


	46. Discovered

**Author's Note: We've waited for this climactic moment for so many chapters. Ever since Tom began the construction of his horcruxes...we've waited for him to find out that Dumbledore had always been one step ahead of him (through Harry). And now he knows. Here it is, boys and girls, the chapter where Tom finally figures it out. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

**Dedication: _Bellatrix. Giggles_, I know you've been looking forward to this moment the most so enjoy this chapter, because it's entirely for you! **

* * *

_...Tom was too lost for words or actions. He was too confused. Lucius' mind had clearly shown Tom that Harry Potter and his friends had broken into a very specific vault at Gringotts and stolen something…and the fact that this vault belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange was not a good sign for dear Bella…or Tom, for that matter..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 46: DISCOVERED**

_"I have something I need you to keep," he said, quietly. "Something that is very important to me and I want it to stay safe with you."_

_Bellatrix turned around in the blankets and looked up at Tom, beaming. She was happy with anything he had to tell her, but knowing that there was a secret he had to share with her and her only, made her feel incredibly special. And Tom knew it. _

_"I will," she said immediately._

_"You do understand, don't you?" said Tom, cautiously. "It is _very_ important to me and should anything happen to it, I _will_ kill you."_

_Bellatrix gulped loudly._

_"I _will_ destroy you," Tom continued, "Without hesitation."_

_"I promise," said Bellatrix quickly. "I promise I will keep it safe—whatever it is—my lord. I promise." _

Tom continued to pace up and down the room as his mind raced. Downstairs, the Death Eaters were cleaning up the mess with those unfortunate Gringotts workers and goblins. Bellatrix was still moaning at the pain of the Cruciatus curse. Narcissa was shouting orders at the various house members. Feeling overwhelmed with his thoughts, Tom sank into a chair and breathed.

_"I have reason to believe that you may know something, Tom."_

Dumbledore's voice seemed to ring in his ears again, echoing from the long-forgotten past. He was back in his office, sitting across from the old man with the half-moon spectacles, eyeing him nervously.

_"I know what you are up to, Tom," _he'd said, in his usual accusatory voice, _"Don't think that I don't because I do."_

At the time, it had been so easy to assume that Dumbledore was talking about the Chamber of Secrets and Tom being the much sought for Heir of Slytherin. Could it be that he had actually overlooked an important detail in what Dumbledore was saying to him, all those times he'd called him for another interrogation? Could it be that, even then, the old fool had known about Tom's developing interest in horcruxes? Or was Tom's paranoia now getting the best of him?

"_Perhaps, you have been looking in the wrong places," _Dumbledore's voice echoed again.

Tom buried his face in his hands and rocked himself in the chair back and forth, thinking. His leg was tapping nervously against the hardwood floors. His heart was beating unusually fast. Where was Nagini—his voice of reason—when he needed her? Probably downstairs, feasting on some of Tom's latest victims…He sighed and closed his eyes again.

_"I feel sure that one day, Dumbledore will be at your knees_," said the ghost of Nott's voice on a cold winter night.

"Cut it out," mumbled Tom into his ice white hands.

Dumbledore's ghostly face appeared before his eyes again.

_"The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom…I wish I could…"_

"Stop it!" hissed Tom.

_ "This is very dark stuff, Tom, very dark indeed."_

_"Which is why I came to _you_." _

Tom jumped from the chair and began to pace the room again.

_"Tell me about horcruxes."_

_"Very dark stuff, oh yes." _

His fingers tapped nervously against his leg as he walked. His breathing was hard and heavy now. The sweat was back. Unbelievable. He was officially _panicking._

_"…to rip the soul into _seven pieces!..."

_"This is very dark stuff, Tom, very dark indeed."_

_"It'll be our little secret."_

Tom found that his knees were buckling beneath him and he was lowering himself onto the floor.

_"People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about...horcruxes."_

He gently settled himself down, sitting with his back leaning against the large four-poster bed.

_"But it is harmless?"_

_"Merlin's Beard! Seven!"_

He placed his head in his hands again, but kept his eyes wide open this time as he let the realisation of the situation sink in.

They knew. Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. They knew his greatest secret. They'd known all along. Or rather, Dumbledore had known all along and clued Potter in on it just recently, before his death. Or did he find out much later in his life? Did he know what Tom had been plotting since Tom's Hogwarts years or during the first war? Or was it the second war?

_"Very dark stuff."_

_"Which is why I came to _you_." _

_"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places."_

_"I know what you are up to, Tom."_

"ENOUGH!" shouted Tom, and he let the Elder Wand slip from his fingers, emitting sparks of red light that sent the entire wall to the right crumbling down.

Tom distinctly heard the Death Eaters' gasps and yells of surprise from the first floor, but was too emotionally overwhelmed at the moment to care about the damage he'd caused.

Albus Dumbledore: the master of meddling, in both life and death. Amazing.

"Master," hissed Nagini as she finally made her way into the room and over to the spot on the floor where Tom sat. "Is everything alright, master?"

"I need to leave, Nagini," said Tom, and just like that, he disapparated from Malfoy Manor.

Tom paced up and down the familiar old cliff in the early hours of the morning, with the sunlight shimmering above him. He was still trying to wrap his mind around it. Harry Potter knew. This good-for-nothing, arrogant little teenager—a fetus!—knew Tom's deepest, most darkest secret...the secret that he had guarded for the longest time...the secret that not even his most trusted Death Eaters (not even Severus!) knew.

And then, it all hit Tom.

Regulus had known. Regulus had gone to that cave to destroy Slytherin's locket. But he'd died trying to do it. Did he actually manage it? What about the diary? That had been destroyed down in the Chamber of Secrets just recently, and Tom had felt nothing. Did this mean that the other Horcruxes had already been destroyed as well? But Tom was sure he'd feel something, wouldn't he? At least with the later Horcruxes, that is. And now he knew that Harry Potter was on this search—this quest—for his precious, beloved Horcruxes. How many he'd found or destroyed, Tom did not know. He'd felt absolutely nothing. Did that mean that he was immune to pain and injury by now, and therefore incapable of feeling anything stronger than the _Avada Kedavra_?

He could picture Harry Potter now, laughing with Dumbledore over a couple of ruddy butterbeers and pathetic little lemon drops. They sure had him fooled. This was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. It was worse than every single time that Potter had thwarted him. It was the sudden, unforgettable realisation that his secret had been betrayed. It no longer belonged to just him. It had been exposed years ago without his knowledge, and he was only just catching up with it now.

Tom stopped his pacing suddenly and looked around the familiar old cliff. It was time. He was going to go back to the source—to the very beginning. And once he figured out just how damaging the situation was, he was going to come for Harry Potter and have that final duel, once and for all, whether Potter was ready for it or not.

* * *

**Please let me know if you thought I'd paid enough justice to this crucial moment in the story. As always, I am open to suggestions and going back in my work. Thanks**

**P.S. the next chapter marks the beginning of the legendary Battle of Hogwarts! ****I didn't realise the near-end would come so soon :'( **

**Oh, and before I forget, a little explanation: yes, this chapter was fairly short...as were the last two. This is in preparation for the next four chapters which will be fairly long as they depict the epic finale. So be patient**


	47. The Battle of Hogwarts Part 1

**Author's Note: Hey readers! I know it's been a while. I've been busy with schoolwork and I recently started a new fanfic so I've been updating that one a lot and somewhat neglecting this one. Here is the first part of the infamous Battle of Hogwarts. I'll have the next chapter up for you very soon. The end is definitely near. Only three more chapters to go. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

**Dedication: All readers; thank you for the continued support! **

* * *

_...Tom stopped his pacing suddenly and looked around the familiar old cliff. It was time. He was going to go back to the source—to the very beginning. And once he figured out just how damaging the situation was, he was going to come for Harry Potter and have that final duel, once and for all, whether Potter was ready for it or not..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 47: THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS PART 1**

The wind soared against his face as he flew over the hillsides and mountaintops. He did not stop or slow down. He was too angry to do so. As he flew, he felt a youth's presence invade his mind. He shook it off as hard as he could, but the longer he flew, the more difficult this became.

_...What I am not understanding is how this child is a danger to me. I mean, it knows not of any of my horcruxes. It is only just a baby…_

How completely ridiculous he felt now. He had gone further than any other wizard in magical history—further than Gellert Grindelwald himself! He had overcome the greatest challenges and obstacles. Merlin's beard, he was the Heir of Slytherin for crying out loud! How _could _he have underestimated a petty little _boy_?!

As he flew, his thought process began to circulate around Dumbledore again. No matter what, it all always led back to Albus Dumbledore…his nemesis in life and death. How could Dumbledore still, to this day, induce fear inside Tom? How did he still manage to make him sweat with nervousness? HE WAS DEAD!

_...We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom…._

So he had known by then? Or did he know all along and only clued Potter in on it recently? How could Tom have overlooked this? Where had his head been all along?

He landed firmly on the damp ground and marched right over to the dirty old shack in Little Hangleton. With the flick of the Elder Wand in his hand, the entire side wall blasted open. He let himself in and looked around. The place was as damp and filthy as it had been the last time he'd been there, years and years ago. Ignoring the violent hissing of the snakes out in the yard, he threw the stinky old armchair aside with another flick of his wand, and bent down to remove the floorboard. His heart pounded hard against his chest now. The ring was missing. Missing!

Cursing out loud, Tom apparated to the hillside in a violent rage. He yelled _"BOMBARDA"_ and destroyed the shack completely. Without so much as a glance at the large manor house over on the other side of the hill (for it brought up too many memories for him), Tom disappeared from the village and moved on to his next destination: _Borgin and Burke's_.

_...People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about…horcruxes…_

Could the old git have said something to Dumbledore? Is that how he found out what Tom had been up to? But Tom could hardly imagine a world where Horace Slughorn was not utterly terrified to defy him. He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't.

He flew on, ignoring the strong youthful presence that was somehow forcing itself into his mind. He furiously shook it off and diverted his thoughts back to Dumbledore. So he knew about the existence of the horcruxes. But could he have known how to destroy them? Or was that Potter's doing completely? Tom had felt absolutely nothing. No pain, no panic, no jolts in his stomach. If his horcruxes were being destroyed one by one, as he now assumed was Potter's ultimate plan, why was he not feeling a single thing?

He arrived at Knockturn Alley in no time and marched right through _Borgin and Burke's_. He ignored the look on Borgin's face and marched up the stairs without a word to him. As he reached the top landing, he heard Borgin whimper with fear and a bottle shatter somewhere. Tom threw open the door to his old bedroom and knelt down, moving the old carpet aside. If the filthy scum had touched it, he would kill him this instant. Tom removed the floorboard and grew instantly white. There was nothing there. Borgin came up from behind him, keeping his head bowed. Tom jumped to his feet and faced him.

_"Legiliments!"_ he cried.

He occupied Borgin's mind for all of thirty seconds before diving out and cursing him so that he fell down the stairs and out of his sight. He had no information to offer Tom. Furious, Tom fell down to the floor and sat in the corner, thinking. Once, long ago, he had hidden two objects underneath these floorboards…his diary and the Hufflepuff cup. But both were removed from this location long after. Why couldn't he remember now where he had put them? Tom buried his head in his hands and thought long and hard. The memories were all very hazy now. Of course he was too overcome with stress. Now, it slowly came back to him. He'd given the diary to Lucius Malfoy to guard (and it was destroyed of course) and the cup to Bellatrix who had hidden it in her vault (which was now broken into). As far as Tom was concerned, one horcrux was surely destroyed. As for the cup, it was only a matter of time before Potter managed to destroy it. But what had happened to Morfin's ring?

Tom jumped to his feet and disappeared from the room above _Borgin and Burke's_. There was no use in checking the Gringotts location for it was already exposed. There was one last place he needed to look before he reached Hogwarts, where the Ravenclaw Diadem was hidden safely in the Room of Requirement. As he flew, his thoughts wandered to the ring. Was it Dumbledore or Potter who'd removed it from its place? Was it already destroyed? Why was it that Tom had not felt a thing?

He was getting closer to his destination and the boy had stopped invading his mind for the time being. Feeling relieved, Tom allowed his thoughts to wander off to a dangerous place. Was it possibly his fault that Dumbledore and the boy had learnt his secret? Could he have revealed a little too much?

_...I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed…_

Had Dumbledore caught on that day when Tom had requested the teaching job? Or had he already known, even before then? When had it all happened?

_...How could you have believed I would not rise again? You, who have seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living…_

Tom forced the presence out of his mind again. The boy was really throwing himself in. Why was he spying on Tom all of a sudden? Did he know that Tom had finally figured it out? He directed his thoughts on something else. Who had known about his horcruxes? Slughorn certainly had…he'd never told any of his Death Eaters outright, but he had hinted several times. Bellatrix, Lucius, Avery, Regulus...it could have been any one of them. But Tom highly doubted that they'd gone behind his back. Hmm…

He finally arrived at his destination and stopped on the edge of the cliff. Crystal Cave. It looked exactly as Tom had left it. This place was full of secrets…magic…sorcery. It was the place where he had experimented with his magic as a kid. It was the place where he had grown to learn his strengths and powers. It was the place he associated with his first performance of the legendary Cruciatus curse. And it was the first-ever secure hiding place for his horcruxes.

_...Pain beyond pain, my friends. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body. I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost, but still, I was alive…_

Yes, he had revealed far too much.

He found the exact spot and stared at the blank inside of the bowl he had enchanted long ago. It was gone. Vanished. He had no way of knowing what had happened to the locket. Had Regulus destroyed it before the inferi got to him? Or was it Dumbledore? Or had Harry Potter gotten to it? Tom had no reason to believe that the locket still existed, yet he also had no way of being sure. The hot, coiling ball of red anger grew to tremendous size in his chest. Furious, Tom kicked the bowl and it fell to the floor with a loud clank. He waved the Elder Wand in the air, a string of the meanest spells circulating in his mind, and threw rock against rock, water on top of water, and inferi against all ends. His yells of anger echoed throughout the whole of the cave. He only hoped that, wherever Dumbledore was at the moment, he was not watching this scene of weakness unfold.

When Tom was finally finished massacring the cave, he disapparated. It was his fault. He had told them too much. He had trusted them too much; given them too much faith. And now, he was to pay the price. His most precious secret was exposed. _He_ was exposed.

_…I, who have gone further than anybody upon the path that leads to immortality…_

It was all over. His secret was out. And he had no one else to blame but himself.

_…But now I was tested. And it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it…_

He should never have trusted them—the filthy traitors. He should never have underestimated the power of the old fool, and definitely the teenage minion.

At that moment, Tom felt his mind leave his body and land somewhere else. He was standing on a cliff somewhere he did not recognise, and facing him were two people.

"It has something to do with Ravenclaw and it's in the castle. We have to go there. _NOW!"_

Tom withdrew. No. This couldn't happen. He left the cave as fast as he could and forced the Dark Mark into the air. He passed the message along to Bellatrix who stayed true to her word and proceeded to summon everyone. With this knowledge in his mind, Tom departed from the cave to meet the others at Hogwarts. He did not waste his time and flew as fast as he could—before long, he arrived at the scene. The hundreds upon hundreds of dark-hooded followers stood on the cliff, at his service. Tom eyed them with fury gleaming in his red eyes, before he turned to look at the castle. The lights flickered from inside the large windows. They were all awake. It was time.

Nagini appeared at his feet and Tom eyed her with admiration.

"I am glad to see you," he whispered. "Alive, I might add."

"I am too, master," she hissed back.

Smiling to himself, Tom rotated the Elder Wand between his fingers and glanced back at the castle.

_...We both know there are other ways to destroy a man, Tom..._

Indeed, thought Tom. Now, we shall see. It was time for a little message for Dumbledore's little army.

I KNOW THAT MANY OF YOU WILL WANT TO FIGHT. SOME OF YOU MAY EVEN THINK THAT TO FIGHT IS WISE. BUT THIS IS FOLLY. I WISH YOU NO HARM. I HAVE GREAT RESPECT FOR THE STUDENTS OF HOGWARTS. I WAS ONCE ONE MYSELF AFTER ALL. I ASK FOR BUT ONE THING AND IF GRANTED, NO MAGICAL BLOOD SHALL BE SPILT. GIVE ME HARRY POTTER. DO THIS AND NONE SHALL BE HARMED. GIVE ME HARRY POTTER AND I SHALL LEAVE HOGWARTS UNTOUCHED. GIVE ME HARRY POTTER AND YOU WILL BE REWARDED. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.

His whispers echoed violently throughout the grounds and right into the minds of every Hogwarts student, staff member, Snatcher, and Death Eater. He could almost taste the fear and pain of having one's mind possessed like so. Tom smiled as he concluded his speech.

And so he waited. He waited like he had never waited before. If they were smart, they would do the right thing and hand Potter over to him. If they were meddlesome fools, they would put up a fight and try to be noble or brave or whatever other heroic nonsense Dumbledore had taught them. But that would not be enough. He would still get to the boy. No matter what happened tonight, no matter how long it took, and no matter how many would have to die, Tom was going to kill Harry Potter, once and for all.

Several different-coloured sparks flew up into the sky from within the Hogwarts grounds. A silvery blue shield began to slowly form itself around the perimeter, stretching into the boundaries and guarding it from the Death Eaters. In the distance, Tom could hear shouts and yells of orders. By the time the hour was up however, everything went instantly quiet and still.

"They never learn," said Tom aloud to the hundreds and hundreds of black-hooded Death Eaters standing behind him on top of the cliff. "Such a pity."

He smiled, seemingly amused with the worthless efforts of the Hogwarts crowd. There was faint movement behind him and then someone cleared their throat.

"M-m-my lord," said Pius Thicknesse. "S-s-shouldn't we w-wait?"

Tom turned to look at him His red eyes gleamed fiercely at the nerve of the man. Chilled by the look on Tom's face, Thicknesse looked away nervously. Then, Tom nodded in Bellatrix' direction and turned back to the school. From the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed Bellatrix raise her arm in signal and behind them, the sea of Death Eaters settled, poised and waiting. The air went completely still.

"Begin," Tom declared.

As if burying a knife deep in the heart of an enemy, Bellatrix dropped her arm. The explosions sounded immediately. Hundreds of wands pointed at the castle, sending out all colours of sparks. The sparks hit the shield at impressive speed and just as quickly exploded like cannonballs, sending blue light everywhere. The shield shuddered and shook violently. A fresh volley of curses laced the night sky and bombs struck the shield like lightning. Down below, a sea of snatchers closed in on the bridge, their howls deafening. The first snatcher ran flat into the shield and bounced back just as quickly. The others stopped just in time and glared up at the castle.

Suddenly, a hot stab of pain pursed its way through Tom's body, almost mechanically. He howled in pain, his eyes burning scarlet. The pain jabbed its way through his stomach and arms and then it was gone. Impulsively and violently, he drew his wand—then stopped briefly, studying it. A strange mixture of awe and ambivalence darkened his face. Would this wand do the trick? What horcrux had just been destroyed and why was he now able to feel the effects of it? Suddenly, he screwed up his face and pointed his wand to the sky. His arm swept forth and a crack of thunder shook the grounds. The sky turned white. For a moment, everything was frozen still, and then an eruption of sound and fury rolled the grounds. Tom dropped his arm and the shield shattered like millions of tiny shards of glass.

Almost instantly, the swarm of Death Eaters ran for the castle. Windows shattered, pierced by plumes which then materialised into Death Eaters. The yells of students and staff echoed through the darkness, wands blazing in every direction. The thundering rumble in the distance introduced the giants which Tom had recruited long ago. The Death Eaters ran over the grounds, dodging the giants which stepped on anything in their path (including the occasional Death Eater), all the while crushing skulls and snapping spines. Explosions detonated all throughout, shattering windows and smashing walls. Rubble was falling into the night and tapestries burned, producing smoke everywhere.

The battle was in full-on mode. Lives were being lost on both sides as Tom stood at the top of the cliff with the second half of Death Eaters, waiting. He waited as limbs flew here and there. Nagini slithered at his feet, whispering pleas of food. Tom ignored them and watched the castle intently. The first place he had ever called home was now being destroyed and wrecked completely. All the teachers that had taught him...Flitwick...Slughorn...they were all inside the castle, suffering the wraths of the Death Eaters. The common rooms...the trophy room...the infamous Great Hall...it was all tumbling into nothingness. _When_ would Harry Potter decide enough was enough? _When_ would he step forward and save them all this trouble?

Tom felt slightly unsettled about the slow destruction of the castle. He had, after all, lived her for a good couple of years. But it wasn't his fault that the boy was being stubborn. He wanted a fight? And so a fight he was going to get.

Hours must have passed when suddenly, Tom froze, bellowing in pain as his eyes burned red and he glared toward the castle in the distance, his pale hand gripping the Elder Wand so fiercely. Tom's stricken face wheeled toward the black sky above, his eyes scanning the dull stars with despair as he released a mournful shriek. He felt a youth's presence invade his mind once again and, for a split second, he got an emerald green glimpse of the inside of the Great Hall amidst the rubble. His eyes glittered with madness, his gaze lost, adrift in the dark constellations above. Another horcrux had just been destroyed, and Tom knew very well which one. It had been the one that Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts for tonight. He had found Tom's secret place. He had discovered it.

"M-m-my lord?" said Thicknesse again.

Feeling a sudden urge of violence, Tom pointed his wand at him furiously.

_"Avada Kedavra!" _

Thicknesse fell against a few of the Death Eaters and for a few seconds, there was a commotion. Then, Nagini slithered her way over to where the man lay dead, and began to feast. Meanwhile, Tom looked back at the school, a stubborn tear streaming down his eye. When he finally spoke, Tom's voice was hoarse and oddly tender.

"Nagini, come," he whispered.

And with that, he slipped away, blasting anyone who stood in his way.

He soared over the dark fields, past unspeakable devastation. The Quidditch pitch which once stood blissfully was now burning in fire. Tom flew over to where a gaunt-looking man stood, a little ways from the battle scene. He grabbed him by the neck and disappeared over to the little boat house on the other side of the lake. Landing on his feet, Tom let go of the blond-haired man and swept eerily forward with Nagini slithering at his feet. The walls shimmered oddly, reflecting the water's surface. Here, the assault on Hogwarts was distant and muted.

Tom stood with his back to the man and stared off at the distant castle. He slowly rolled up the sleeve of his black cloak and analysed the effects that the destruction of the horcruxes was having. The scars he'd once procured were resurfacing, as though he had just created his horcruxes now. They gleamed in the reflection of the water. Tom frowned.

The others were all waiting on the cliff...Avery, Nott's son, Mulciber. All of his favourites were waiting safely on the cliff, while the snatchers and the less favourite ones shed blood inside the castle and wrecked walls.

"Stop looking at her," Tom told the man behind him, after another violent hiss filled his ears. "She smells your fear. It agitates her." He paused. "Be grateful she's just eaten."

The man whimpered slightly and turned away from Nagini, who was glaring at him. Tom drew his Elder Wand and analysed that too. It looked as though the wand had cracked during the destruction of the shield. Tom slowly moved his long fingers up and down the wand, a frown forming on his face. The wand was not respecting him. It was not following his orders as he conveyed them. It was obedient but not surrendered. Why was that?

"F-f-forgive me, m-my lord," said Lucius Malfoy.

Tom ignored him and eyed the wand carefully in his hand. It didn't make any sense. The owner of the wand was dead. Tom had stolen it from him. So why was it not listening to him? And then it hit him like a lightbulb. _He_ had not killed Dumbledore._ He_ had not won it from him, fair and square. Someone else had done all that for him.

"M-my lord," said Lucius again. "Might it not be more…prudent…to call off this attack a-and s-s-s-simply seek the b-boy y-yourself?"

"I do not need to seek the boy," said Tom, in a cool voice. "Before the night is out, _he_ will come to _me!_"

He wheeled around and smacked Lucius across his gaunt-looking face. Lucius whimpered but shut his mouth in silence. Tom sneered. There was once a time, long ago, when he had trusted Lucius above all the others. He'd had such high hopes for Lucius' future in his ranks. But now, he was even disgusted to have him stand in his presence.

"LOOK AT ME," commanded Tom. Lucius faced him, fear stricken on his face like child in the face of death. "How can you live with yourself, Lucius?"

"I don't know," he whispered.

Tom sneered again, then turned away from Lucius and walked back to the edge of the boat house, glaring down at the lake.

"Nagini," he hissed. "You are my last one. I need to keep you safe."

"I won't leave your side, my lord," she hissed back.

Tom looked up at the night sky again and then sighed heavily. He had never thought it would have to come to this. He most certainly hoped that it wouldn't. But unfortunately, there was no alternative. The realisation was dawning upon him now that this was the only possible way for him to reach his ultimatum. He doubted he would ever feel so bad so as to regret this decision. After all, the outcome would be most rewarding. But still…he wished there had been another way.

With these his final thoughts, he turned to look at Lucius impassively. Lucius was staring at him with a mixture of fear and plea. He was obviously tortured enough and fearful for how long his life would last. Tom pursed his lips and then sighed again.

"Go and find Severus," he told Lucius finally. "Bring him to me."

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**Thanks, and don't forget to review with your thoughts!**


	48. The Battle of Hogwarts Part 2

**Author's Note: This was a really difficult chapter to write. As you will notice, Tom goes through many different stages, emotionally. This is all a part of his complicated mind process. He has very impulsive emotions. One minute he is so thrilled that things are going well and the next he is frightened to death. Hope you enjoy**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

_...Tom looked up at the night sky again and then sighed heavily. There was no alternative. It was the only way to achieve his ultimatum._

_"Go and find Severus," he told Lucius finally. "Bring him to me..."_

* * *

**CHAPTER 48: THE BATTLE OF HOGWARTS PART 2**

Tom remembered the first time that he'd met Severus as though it were only yesterday. A young lad, fresh out of Hogwarts, he waited in line with the other prospective Death Eaters. "Severus Snape" he said, when Lucius had asked for his name. And when Tom administered the Dark Mark onto his arm, he looked him in the eyes and did not display a shred of pain or discomfort. He was the perfect servant Tom could have asked for.

When the war was at its height, Severus became one of Tom's most trusted servants. He performed splendidly on those midnight rallies down in Diagon Alley. He was the one who'd warned Tom about the prophecy. He was the one who applied for the teaching post at Hogwarts so he could spy on Dumbledore for Tom. He stuck by Tom all those years during his exile. He stayed true to his word and got on Dumbledore's good side. And then, when Tom needed him, he came right back to him and fulfilled the essential task that Tom needed fulfilling: Dumbledore's murder.

But there was a small loophole in fulfilling that task, which Tom had to admit he'd overlooked. Killing Dumbledore meant that Severus became the owner of the Elder Wand. Its allegiance lay with him, not Tom. It was he who killed the wizard that acquired their wand's allegiance, not he who stole from. Therefore, the Elder Wand belonged solely to Severus Snape.

He heard a swift movement behind him—almost like a swishing sound—and drew the Elder Wand again. Lucius had been gone for a while and Tom was beginning to wonder what was taking Severus so long. He did not regret this decision one bit. Servants came and went. He knew that well. He did feel disappointed that it had come to this. After all, Severus was one he would always remember. But in the end, having to choose meant that only one could live forever. And that one would be Tom.

"You wished to see me, my lord?" said Snape's cool voice as he entered the little boat house.

Tom turned around to face him. He studied him for a moment, and then smiled softly. Over in the corner, Nagini hissed.

"I am beginning to have doubts, Severus," said Tom, coolly. "I am not ashamed to admit it—I am beginning to worry."

"What about, my lord?" said Snape.

"This," said Tom, raising the Elder Wand.

"The most powerful wand in the world is giving you doubts, sir?" said Snape, incredulously.

Tom chuckled lightly and nodded.

"I suppose I called you here tonight because…you are my most trusted and loyal servant. I thought you could talk me through this."

"Of course, my lord," said Snape, automatically. "Exactly what is it you are worried about, sir?"

Tom thought for a moment.

"I do not believe the Elder Wand has sworn its allegiance to me, Severus. I believe it is doubting me—refusing to perform to the best of its ability. I believe it is challenging me and defying me simply because it can." He paused, rotating the wand between his long fingers. "Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

"My lord," said Snape, waving his hand over this nonsense, "You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand in the last few hours alone."

Tom shook his head right away.

"No," he said. "No,_ I _am extraordinary. But this wand resists me—"

"—There is no wand more powerful," said Snape, as-a-matter-of-factly. "Ollivander himself has said it. Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you. I am sure of it."

Tom slowly drew himself up to Snape's face and studied his black eyes. He would surely miss him. He really would. But no matter how much Snape tried to convince him now, Tom had already made up his mind. He was going to kill him and then he was going to kill Harry Potter.

"It answers to _you_ and _you only_," Snape added, moments later.

For a while, the two men simply stood in the darkness, eyeing each other intently. Snape looked to be calm and composed, whereas Tom was rather curious. He watched as Snape occasionally glanced over at Nagini, who was slithering in the corner over the wooden floors, and hissing violently in Parseltongue at Tom. The battle outdoors was completely muted there in the boat house, so Tom had no idea what was happening or which side had the advantage. He did not know who was yet alive or dead. He only hoped it was none of his main Death Eaters. Despite everything, they were good to him and he looked forward to celebrating with them after the war was over and the boy was dead.

"Does it?" said Tom, finally, in barely more than a whisper.

Snape frowned.

"My lord?"

"The wand," Tom clarified, now slowly beginning to move around Snape. "Does it truly answer to me?"

Snape did not turn to face him, but remained frozen to the floors, allowing Tom to stand behind him.

"You're a clever man, Severus. Surely you must know." He paused and walked around again, standing by where Nagini was settled. He then turned on his heel to face Snape. "Where does its true loyalty lie?"

"With you, of course," said Snape, his hands behind his back as he spoke. "My lord."

Tom smiled benignly and then took a slight step forwards.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master." At this, Snape frowned, looking more confused than ever. Tom paused, wondering whether Snape could have known about this after all, or not. Nonetheless, he continued. "The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner." At this, Tom took another step towards Snape, who remained glued to his spot. He lowered his voice, now tender and hoarse. "_You _killed Dumbledore, Severus. While you live, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

This time, Tom saw a kind of shadow cross Snape's face. Or at least, it definitely darkened. He was coming to the realisation that this was it for him. Tom was sure of it. Feeling incredibly disappointed, he took another step towards Snape who, even now as he lowered his hands to his sides, remained rooted to the spot.

"You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus," said Tom, and he meant it fully. "But as you know from long ago, my life's ambition has been to conquer the world. And so it is with a heavy heart that I must say goodbye to you tonight, once and for all, because...only I can live forever."

"M-my lord?" Snape managed to say, but Tom decided to spare him any more torture and end it quickly.

With a swift flick of the Elder Wand, a gash of blood erupted from Snape's throat and he fell to the ground.

"Nagini," said Tom, in his perfect Parseltongue. "Kill."

It happened very quickly. Nagini was fairly full from her feast with dear old Pius Thicknesse, the now former Minister for Magic, but she still seemed to have room for one more. She did not necessarily feast on Snape. In fact, she seemed to go easy on him, perhaps sensing the bit of disappointment that Tom was feeling in this unfortunate decision. She only bit Snape a couple of times and when he was splattered in his blood, she stopped.

Tom stood there for a moment, eyeing Snape's seemingly lifeless body. He could not deny that he would miss him. But it was what it was and it had to be what it had to be. There was no alternative.

"Come, Nagini," said Tom, softly, and the two disappeared from the boat house in one quick movement.

They landed with a light thud atop of the cliff again. Tom felt slightly nostalgic and brushed this feeling off immediately. He glanced around the darkness and found the Hogwarts castle barely standing anymore. Tom sighed.

"My lord?" said Bellatrix, who was eyeing him with curiosity. "Is…is everything alright, my lord?"

Tom glanced down at the Elder Wand and then back up at the castle. He now had the Death Stick fully in his command. There was no more need for unnecessary drama.

"Call it off," he announced.

The crowd of Death Eaters behind him gasped collectively.

"My lord?"

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Are you sure, my lord?"

Tom chose to ignore them and deliver the message himself via possession once again:

YOU HAVE FOUGHT VALIANTLY BUT IN VAIN. I DO NOT WISH THIS. EVERY DROP OF MAGICAL BLOOD SPILLED IS A TERRIBLE WASTE. I THEREFORE COMMAND MY FORCES TO RETREAT. IN THEIR ABSENCE, DISPOSE OF YOUR DEAD WITH DIGNITIY. TREAT YOUR INJURED.

HARRY POTTER, I NOW SPEAK DIRECTLY TO YOU. ON THIS NIGHT, YOU HAVE ALLOWED YOUR FRIENDS TO DIE FOR YOU RATHER THAN FACE ME YOURSELF. THERE IS NO GREATER DISHONOUR. JOIN ME IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST AND CONFRONT YOUR FATE. SHOULD YOU DO SO, I GIVE MY WORD THAT NO OTHER LIFE WILL BE LOST ON THIS NIGHT. IF YOU DO NOT GIVE YOURSELF UP, I SHALL PUNISH EVERY LAST MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD WHO TRIES TO CONCEAL YOU FROM ME.

Tom sighed happily as the last effects of his echoed whispers vanished. He looked around at his Death Eaters who did not seem to understand the meaning of this message.

"Come, my Death Eaters," he said, softly. "Join me in the Forbidden Forest. We shall wait."

The procession of Death Eaters moved slowly from the cliff and into the woods. They marched in unison and in complete and total silence. Tom was at the front, followed closely by Bellatrix, Avery, the Malfoys, and the rest of the main group. They were soon joined by the hundreds of Death Eaters departing from the castle. The two groups collided and almost instantly, there was a swarm of whispers. Who had died? What had become of this room or that person?

From what Tom had overheard as he continued to lead the large group into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, Greyback was among the many from their side that had perished. Remus Lupin, the werewolf he had changed himself, was also dead, along with Narcissa's and Bellatrix's blood traitor niece, Nymphadora Tonks. One of the dozens of Weasley children had also died. Tom sincerely hoped it was Harry Potter's friend. But no matter; if it wasn't, he would make it soon enough.

They continued to walk through the woods, proceeding to the shades of darkness. The battle had taken an abrupt halt, and so none of the screaming and burning of fire from before could be heard now. Behind Tom, the Death Eaters continued to share notes on who had survived. According to their calculations, several of the giants that had participated in the battle were also defeated. The dementors that had so kindly joined in on the battle after just a few hours were driven away by a powerful curse that none of the Death Eaters recognised.

"Where is Severus?" Tom heard Narcissa wonder aloud.

"Last time I saw him, he was marching through the Great Hall," said Rabastan Lestrange. "He looked like there was someplace he needed to be."

"There was," confirmed Lucius.

Tom blocked out the rest of the reports (and Lucius' explanation about Tom's request to meet with him in the boat house) and instead concentrated his mind on something even more important.

Harry Potter was going to meet him in the Forbidden Forest in less than an hour. They were finally going to have that duel that Tom had been looking forward to for 17 years. At long last, it was all going to be over and Tom was going to show to the rest of the world just how powerful he was and that no one—_no one_ could defy or defeat him. Feeling immensely proud of this, he took every step with determination and resolution. He was not going to let anybody take this dream away from him…not now. Not ever.

The Death Eaters finally reached the heart of the forest where a large hairy figure stood rooted to the spot. It took a moment before Tom realised what it was. He laughed at the Death Eaters' shrivel attempts to tie the thing up and flicked his wand, adding brand new ropes to the figure's arms, legs, and large neck.

"Evening, Hagrid," said Tom, casually. "Nice night, no?"

Hagrid slowly lifted his head and revealed a heavily bruised face amidst a bucketful of tears. Tom's smile brightened. He turned around to look at the sea of Death Eaters who looked completely and utterly exhausted. Gaining his approval with a simple nod, they sat down. They were tired. They were worn-out. They wanted to go home and begin the celebrations. And soon, they would be able to do all of this.

Tom slowly paced around Hagrid, keeping the Elder Wand firmly in his hand. Nagini followed his every step and occasionally hissed into the silence of the forest.

"I've always loved this place," said Tom, happily. "Hogwarts—it was my first real home, you know."

Hagrid was still and silent as a wall, though Tom did not doubt that he was listening to his every word.

"I remember the first time I saw you," said Tom, in a light, casual tone. "You were—still are—the ugliest thing that'd ever crossed my path." A few of the Death Eaters gathered on the ground nearby let out chuckles. Looking amused, Tom now addressed them instead. "He was lurking about the Slytherin side of the castle. I was a prefect at the time and so I demanded to know what he was doing over on that side. It took me some time but I eventually figured it out…breeding ugly, useless creatures, were you? You were always an odd one. I never liked you. Never."

Hagrid took in these words without answer. He did not move. He did not weep. The tears seemed to be falling at their own accord. He remained still and waited for Tom to kill him. But Tom was nowhere near finished with his speech.

"You know, I always took pride in everything I accomplished. I never had regrets. Never. But now, I must admit I feel a little bit of sorrow that _I_ did not kill Dumbledore." He paused, a sick smile crossing his face. "It certainly would have made things much simpler."

"H-how do you mean, m-master?" wondered Bellatrix.

Tom sighed heavily and pulled on the hood of his cloak. Twas a chilly night.

"I mean that if I had killed Dumbledore in the first place, things would have been different."

"How so, master?"

"Well for one, Severus would still be with us."

The Death Eaters took in these words absentmindedly, not completely understanding their full meaning. Smiling to himself, Tom continued.

"Tonight, we will take over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But tomorrow, we will take over the whole of the wizarding world…FOREVER!"

At this, the Death Eaters cheered and roared in applause. Tom beamed at them. Indeed, it was going to be quite a victory.

Suddenly, Hagrid began to protest something and Tom waved the Elder Wand and shut him up instantly. He whimpered and resumed his position, staring at the ground and crying. Without another word, Tom walked away. He stopped by a tree a few feet away from the others, his back firmly to them. He did not want them to see the excitement in his eyes just yet. So many times he had come close to this moment and so many times, it had been taken from him. He had been thwarted by Harry Potter for far too long and he was not going to let anything take this moment of glory away from him once again.

The hour seemed to drag. Time was a dirty little thing and it was not at all in a hurry. After a while, the Death Eaters had stopped talking and resorted to mending their minor injuries or picking at the grass in boredom. Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds around him. He could hear the pitter-patter of animals up in the trees…the casual rustle of leaves moving in the brief wind…he could hear the occasional Death Eater sigh heavily…he could hear hearts beating rapidly and slowly… he could hear Nagini somewhere in the distance, hissing violently. Tom sneered. He had specifically told her to stay close to him, and she was purposefully not listening.

Feeling restless and impatient, Tom turned to face his Death Eaters.

"You," he said, simply, to a blond-haired man sitting at the front. "Yaxley."

Yaxley got to his feet, moved towards Tom, and bowed low to him.

"Go and have a look around the perimeter for the boy," said Tom, lazily.

"Y-yes, master," said Yaxley, and he was off.

Tom turned his back on the rest again and closed his eyes, the Elder Wand rotating slowly in between his fingers. Any minute now—any second—Yaxley would return. The boy would be at his side. He would bow before Tom and ask him to spare his life. The Death Eaters would laugh. Tom would point the Elder Wand right in between those hateful emerald green eyes, and he would say _Avada Kedavra_. It would all be over…any minute now.

And yet, the minute become five minutes which then became ten minutes. Tom kept his eyes firmly shut. He swore that the next time he opened them, he would be facing Harry Potter. It was not going to happen any other way. He waited. Years of exile had made him an expert at the art of waiting. He knew well by now that one only achieved what they set out to achieve if they learned how to wait. He had had to wait all those years at Hogwarts. He had had to wait all those years that he'd lived above _Borgin and Burke's_. He had had to wait all throughout the first war and now the second. But after tonight, no one would ever again question his powers. After tonight, there would be no more waiting. It would be the start of the rest of his timeless life.

A twig snapped somewhere in the distance. Tom almost heard Hagrid's head snap up in between the ropes. Someone was coming closer. Could it be…?

"No s-sign of him, my lord," said Yaxley, re-entering the clearing.

Tom stood with his head bowed, his skeletal hands folded over the Elder Wand, his eyes still shut. Nagini lay in a heavy coil at his feet. Tom nodded, unmoving. He felt Yaxley brush past him. He waited a few more long minutes and then, at long last, he opened his eyes and looked at the emptiness before him.

"I thought he would come," he said, in a very, very low voice. No one said a word. No one moved. "I was, it seems…mistaken."

"You weren't," said a voice Tom recognised instantly.

Tom grew instantly white. He lifted his head and the hood of the cloak fell off, revealing his snake-like face. His scarlet eyes instantly found the boy in the distance, moving slowly into the clearing. All of the Death Eaters gasped and jumped to their feet, looking bewildered and excited for what they knew was coming. The boy stopped, keeping a fair distance between himself and Tom. Beside Tom, Nagini hissed with excitement. All of the eyes of the Death Eater's shifted from Tom to Potter, standing at the clearing's edge.

"HARRY! NO! WHAT'RE YEH DOIN' 'ERE!"

Tom heard one of the Carrows kick Hagrid and he fell silent. The boy remained standing and watching Tom. Tom could not quite make out his expression. Was it fear? Anxiety? Fatigue? Deciding that it was an unimportant detail, Tom straightened up.

"Harry Potter—the boy who lived," he said, in a very light and calm voice. "Come to die."

Tom slowly raised the Elder Wand and pointed it directly at the boy. The boy did not reach for his own wand. He stood still, weak, and defenseless. There was no one to die for him this time. There was no magic left to save him. He was officially Tom's prey. Tom smiled as 16 years' worth of memories since he'd know the boy swam through his mind.

_ "Harry Potter," he'd said in the undergrounds of Hogwarts. "We meet again."_

The boy had stared at him with intense fear and confusion. It had been the first time that he'd faced his nemesis since that fateful night all those years ago.

_"Voldemort," he'd said in a frightened voice._

Tom smiled as he watched the boy now, his Elder Wand pointed with his unshaken hand.

_"Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?"_

_"Never!"_

The memory vanished and replacing it was a fleeting image of the boy standing in the Department of Mysteries, panic-stricken, and pointing his wand at Bellatrix.

_"You know the spell, Harry."_

_"So weak…so vulnerable…"_

_"You're the weak one, and you'll never know love or friendship."_

Red and green jets of light collided, causing explosions of erupting light and millions of sparks. Tom shook his head violently again and concentrated on the grown boy standing across from him in the forest clearing. This was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, for so long.

_"There is no good and evil, son."_

The image of that underground chamber flashed before his eyes and he was once more on the back of old Quirrell's head, facing a frightened looking 11-year-old boy.

_"There is only power and those too weak to seek it." _

Tom smiled.

_"Together, we'll do extraordinary things." _

Suddenly, a man for which he had not a shred of respect appeared before his eyes and smiled in a sad sort of manner.

"THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN DEATH, DUMBLEDORE!"

The echoes of the whispers from the past filled Tom's ears now. He frowned.

"NOTHING WORSE THAN DEATH! NOTHING!"

_"You call this _thing _here my downfall, do you?!"_

"So weak…so vulnerable…"

Tom shook his head again and the voices, the whispers, and the images came to an abrupt halt. The Death Eaters vanished from his mind. They were no longer in the forest. It was just him and the boy standing across from him, awaiting his death. Tom gripped the Elder wand more tightly in his hand and sighed deeply.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The green jet of light shot out of his wand at top speed and hit the boy square in the chest. At the exact moment that he fell to the ground, Tom felt a stab in his own chest, as though he'd just had a dagger go through him. He winced at the terrible pain of it and, just as quickly, felt his knees buckle beneath him, and the delicate Elder Wand slip from his fingers as his eyes slowly flickered and everything went black.

* * *

**The next chapter is going to be LONG and quite interesting, I hope. It's one of my top favourites. The title? "The Orphanage Again". Stay tuned!**


	49. The Orphanage Again

**Author's Note: This is my favourite chapter in the story and it's one that I've been planning since the very beginning. I always thought that when Harry lost consciousness in the forest and had that whole talk with Dumbledore, at the same time, Voldemort had a similar talk with Dumbledore elsewhere...and this chapter is my interpretation of it. Hope you enjoy :) **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights and characters belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks**

* * *

**CHAPTER 49: THE ORPHANAGE AGAIN**

"Where am I?"

"Where do you think?"

"I don't know what I think. Just tell me where I am, okay?"

"I'd rather hear your theories."

"JUST TELL ME WHERE I AM!"

"Oh boy, have I missed this."

"This? What is this? What happened?"

"Open your eyes and see for yourself, Tom."

"Open my eyes? What do you mean, 'open my eyes'? They_ are_ open!"

"Now, now, no need to get angry."

"They are open. See? They're open! And everything is black. Ugh, turn on the light, will you?!"

"Hmm…they're open? That's odd."

"What's odd? Hey—where are you? Hey, come back! Don't leave me."

"I'm right here, Tom."

"I think I'm starting to go mad…I can see things fading in and out of focus. It's so dark here. Open that light, already!"

"You want to see?"

"YES. What kind of question is that?! Of course I want to see!"

"Just think it."

"Think it?"

"Think that you want to see. Go on; do it."

"Is this a joke?"

"I suppose I'm not surprised…you never did trust me, did you, Tom?"

He sighed and concentrated hard on wanting to see. The room suddenly brightened up as though curtains had been drawn back in a swift effort. Tom blinked rapidly. He could not feel a thing. Everything was so weird. He focused his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. The bed. The desk. The closet. The window. The man. His eyes stopped at the man and he stared at him for a long time.

"Don't you recognise me, Tom?" said the man.

Tom continued to stare.

"I haven't changed that much, have I?" said the man, and he reached for the small closet door and opened it, revealing a mirror in which he glanced and frowned. "Nope. Still the same old me—whiter beard, I'd say."

Tom nodded.

The man closed the door and walked over to the small window, glancing outside.

"I think it is going to rain soon, don't you, Tom?"

Again, Tom nodded, too lost for words.

The man sighed happily and took a seat on the chair across from the bed on which Tom sat. They remained quiet for a long time, sitting like a doctor and patient.

"You have also changed a great deal," said the man, finally breaking the silence.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Feeling was slowly tickling its way back into the tips of his legs and arms. He suddenly became aware that he had a body which he could move. He experimented with a few fingers, tapping them on the bed sheets in a slow, rhythmic movement.

"Where am I?" he finally asked, his childlike voice ringing in his ears more clearly now.

The man frowned.

"Don't you know?"

Tom shook his head and then took another careful look around the room. He had been there before—he was sure of that much. But when? It seemed like so long ago. He stood up, causing the floorboards beneath his feet to creak. He looked out the window. Children were riding bicycles up a rainy street and a postman was making his rounds. Tom backed away from the window and tried the closet next. It was empty, except for a small box which rattled when Tom picked it up. He opened it, ignoring the fact that the man was still watching him intently, and eyed the various objects inside—a ball of string, a yoyo…unimportant things. Tom shut the box and put it back in its place. He finally noticed the mirror and jumped back, gaping at his reflection. He was a child again, but he had blazing scarlet eyes instead of the blue ones he'd been born with.

"Surprised?" said the man, who looked amused as he watched Tom analyse himself in the mirror. Tom's eyes met the man's. "It is what the _real _you looks like, Tom—a mere child, weak and vulnerable, but with the envy, malice, and evil that you so clearly possess."

"I…" said Tom, who was eyeing the man as though he'd spoken a completely different language. "Why are we back here? What is this?"

"This is your parting, Tom," said the man, simply.

"PARTING?!" cried Tom. He shut the closet door abruptly and took a step towards the man. "Parting where? Am…am I d…d…d…"

"Dead?" said the man. "Are you dead?"

Tom gulped nervously.

"Is that really all you care about, Tom?"

"Yes," breathed Tom.

The man sighed heavily.

"No," he finally said. "You are not dead, Tom. But you are also not alive. You are, I suspect, stuck somewhere in the middle."

"What does that even mean?" demanded Tom.

"It means that you and I have a lot to talk about," said the man.

"Right," laughed Tom. "What would I have to talk to_ you_ about?"

"Oh, lots, believe it or not," said the man, raising his grey eyebrows. "We have not had a good, long chat in years, Tom. It is about time we paid credit where credit is due."

"Speak _English,_" hissed Tom.

The man sighed again.

"Where shall I start then?"

"Start with what is going on here."

"Well," said the man. "We are inside your room. You are 11-years-old, though you have your intelligence and your memory is still intact. I am sitting here with you, and it looks like it is going to rain soon."

"Right," said Tom, slowly. "I do have my memories intact. I remember everything."

"Mhm," said the man, who was clearly so very amused.

An image of a darkened forest appeared before Tom's eyes. It was cold and he was wearing a long, dark cloak. A glorious wand slipped through his fingers and a jarring pain stabbed him like a heart to the dagger. He'd heard faint whispers and gasps from a crowd that dissolved before his eyes, as did everything else.

"Am I…d-dead?" he croaked.

"No," said the man. "Like I said, this is just a time for us to talk."

"ABOUT WHAT?!" cried Tom. "I have nothing to say to _you!_"

"Oh, but I have lots to say to _you_," said the man. He then glanced at the window and stood up from the chair, moving to the door.

"W-where are you going?" said Tom, who watched him open it and step out.

The man turned to look at him with a curious smile.

"How about a walk in the rain?"

He did not wait for Tom to answer. He turned and walked away, leaving the door wide open. Tom hesitated, glanced out the window again, and then followed Dumbledore out of his room at Wool's Orphanage.

As soon as they were outside, the rain stopped. The streets were strangely dry and there were no puddles in sight. But the clouds were still relatively dark and the winds rather chilly. All the children from before had vanished. There was no one else except for Tom and Dumbledore, walking along the street together.

"We have lots to discuss, Tom," said Dumbledore. "Where would you like to begin?"

Tom thought for a minute.

"I suppose we should start with what just happened."

"Fair enough," said Dumbledore. "What do you remember?"

"Everything," answered Tom, truthfully. "I remember the battle, the boy coming into the forest—I remember killing him."

"And what happened after that?"

Tom paused.

"Nothing. Nothing happened. I woke up here."

"You don't remember the pain?"

"Well yes, I remember the pain." He paused. "Did the curse rebound on me again?"

"Something like that, yes," said Dumbledore.

"Why does this keep happening?" said Tom, mostly to himself.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"You haven't a clue, have you?"

"No," said Tom, a little annoyed now.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Let's go back."

"To?"

"To Godric's Hollow."

They stopped walking. The street dissolved around them—the cars, the buildings, the sidewalks…everything vanished. And just as quickly, a new scene materialised before their eyes. It took Tom a second to recognise it as the room where he had murdered Lily Potter. She stood now, holding her child close to her as she muttered an unfamiliar incantation and paced around the crib at the center of the room. Outside, lightning was flashing madly. Shouts could be heard from down below. Tom watched the scene lazily and soon became aware that Dumbledore was watching him, and not the scene. He looked up at him.

"What?"

"Oh nothing," said Dumbledore, quickly. "Just observing. Look, here you come."

The door burst open and in came the fully-grown Tom, wearing the hood of his black cloak and pointing a wand at the woman.

"No! Please, not Harry! _Please_, not him! Kill _me_ instead! Please, I beg you. _Don't touch him!_"

"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside now," said Voldemort.

Tom crossed his arms. He was very interested in watching this happen from the outside. He wanted to see exactly what had happened—every second of it.

The girl put the boy down in the crib and turned to face Voldemort. She spread her arms to shield the crib, but he only laughed at this shrivel attempt to save the boy's life.

"PLEASE, HAVE MERCY! PLEASE, I BEG YOU! PLEASE! PLE—"

His spell hit her perfectly and she shrieked before falling to the ground, unmoving. Laughing cruelly, Voldemort turned his wand to face the boy sitting in the crib with tears in his eyes. He did not think twice about it. He muttered the spell and it all happened very quickly. The flash of green light erupted from his wand like an exploding canon, and just as quickly, drew back. His wand began to vibrate and shake in his hand. Furniture everywhere was flying and thunder rumbled in the distance, accompanied by occasional flashes of lightning. Tom watched as his older self crumbled. His knees buckled and his wand slipped from his fingers. His body slowly began to shrink and dissolved into nothingness. Tom watched as the powers forced themselves out of the body, followed by the echoed whispers of their incantations. Colourless, they swarmed out of the room which was now filled with Voldemort's cries.

"Not very pretty, is it?" commented Dumbledore, slyly.

Tom dropped his hands to his sides and said nothing.

"Come on," said Dumbledore, moving towards the door. "I have no further interest in staying here."

Tom followed him out into the darkened village. The thunder and lightning had stopped as the man and the child resumed their walk.

"So it happened again then?" said Tom.

"Not quite," said Dumbledore. "It is true, the curse rebounded upon you again. But it did not have the same effect as it had last time."

"Why is that?"

Dumbledore smiled.

They reached the door to the church at the end of the street. He opened it and motioned for Tom to follow him inside. Tom did. He closed the door behind him and looked around. They were standing in the middle of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was packed with students, waiting for the Sorting Hat to place a skinny boy at the front into a house. Tom and Dumbledore joined the group of first years and watched as the Sorting Hat spoke to the 11-year-old version of Tom.

"Want to know what he was telling me, don't you, Dumbledore?" said Tom now.

Dumbledore shrugged.

"It's up to you."

"Right," scoffed Tom, knowing perfectly well that he had no choice. "It was telling me that it had never seen the name Riddle before but that I had magical blood…and a hunger for power."

"Right on both accounts," commented Dumbledore, slyly.

"It said something was very interesting, that there was no mistaking it, and that it was nice to meet me. Then it said that it would put me in my rightful house."

"That it did," said Dumbledore. "Come on."

He motioned for Tom to follow him and they disappeared from the hall. They walked silently along the dungeons until they finally reached the Slytherin common room. Dumbledore placed his hand on the door and it shoved aside, allowing them entrance. They found a partially crowded room where all the excitement and rage was regarding some attacks at Hogsmeade. They found Tom sitting by himself in an armchair in the corner with _A History of Magic_ open in his lap. He was listening to the other Slytherins exchange false information regarding that day's events. Dumbledore moved forwards and sat down in the armchair next to Tom's. Tom however remained standing, watching himself pretend to read.

"Here I must be thirteen or—"

"Fourteen," said Dumbledore. "Here, you are in your fourth year at Hogwarts."

"Right," nodded Tom. "Why are we here, Dumbledore?"

"Just wait," said Dumbledore, kindly.

They waited.

Soon, the others tired of talking and proceeded up to their dormitories, leaving Tom alone in the common room, with the ghosts of Dumbledore and himself sitting near him. At half past 12, the portrait hole slid open and a few students clambered in and joined Tom on the couches. Tom stood up to face them.

"Well?" he said.

"Well, nothing!" exclaimed Avery, happily.

Tom's ghost scoffed.

"He was always a git," he commented.

"I wonder who made him that way," said Dumbledore, without looking at him.

That shut Tom right up.

"We got away with it," said Lestrange.

"Good," said Tom's older version, a small smile spreading on his face. "You did well. All of you."

The scene dissolved and Tom was now standing alone in the middle of a deserted Chamber of Secrets. The skeleton of the basilisk lay a few feet away from him, draped in water. Tom looked around nervously.

"P-professor?" he said, his voice shaking slightly.

He had never been in the Chamber of Secrets that young. He'd only found it in his fifth year, as he could recall. He had to admit that, standing there alone, it was quite frightening for an 11-year-old.

"DUMBLEDORE!" he called out.

"Calm yourself, Riddle," said Dumbledore, appearing right behind him.

Tom jumped back and breathed heavily.

"Don't do that," he said through clenched teeth.

"Oh I'm sorry, _Voldemort_, I didn't mean to _scare_ you," said Dumbledore.

"Shut up," muttered Tom. "You didn't. Anyway, what are we doing here?"

"I am showing you something," said Dumbledore. His eyes left Tom and landed on a figure that lay sprawled on the floor at the center of the chamber. Tom ran up to the girl and stared at her white face. She was holding his diary in her hands.

"That's one," said Dumbledore.

"What a little thief," he breathed.

He turned to face Dumbledore, who'd raised his eyebrows.

"People shouldn't go taking things that don't belong to them!" said Tom angrily.

"I beg your pardon?" said Dumbledore.

"You wonder why she got snatched by the monster and brought down here?" said Tom. "It was _her_ fault. She shouldn't have been so nosey."

"I believe it was _you_ who possessed her to come down to the chamber, Tom," said Dumbledore, quietly.

"It bloody serves her right," said Tom, looking back at the redheaded girl on the ground before him.

He heard Dumbledore sigh and next second, he was walking away.

"Hey, where are you going?!" Tom called after him, and with one last glance at the girl's body, he ran to join Dumbledore who was striding across the chamber.

"Afraid to be left alone, are you?" said Dumbledore, without looking at him.

Tom didn't say anything.

They ended up on the lakeshore, both of them standing in front of Dumbledore's white tomb. Voldemort's grown version was leaning over him, a wicked smile on his face, as he slowly pulled the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's grasp and held it firmly with his long white fingers.

"What was that you were saying, about how one should not steal that which does not belong to them?" said Dumbledore.

Tom scoffed.

"That's different."

"Enlighten me—how so?"

"This is _me_," said Tom.

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "And those same rules do not apply to you, do they?"

Tom ignored him and watched the gleam on Voldemort's face. Dumbledore was shaking his head now disapprovingly, and began to walk away again. Reluctantly, Tom followed him.

"So I'm not dead then," he said. "But you are."

"Yes, I am," said Dumbledore. "Thank you for that, by the way."

"Mhm," said Tom. "So how can you continue to exist now if you are dead?"

"Well you see," said Dumbledore. "There is always something that you never quite understood, Tom." He paused to look at him. "There is an afterlife, Tom. There is life beyond death."

"Impossible," said Tom, rolling his eyes at the old man. "Death is the end."

"No," said Dumbledore, sadly. "It most certainly is not. It is only but the next great adventure."

"Keep telling yourself that," said Tom. "You don't think I know what's going on here?"

Dumbledore frowned.

"And what is going on here, Tom?"

"This is all happening inside my head," said Tom. "I am not really here. And neither are you."

Dumbledore sighed. He motioned for Tom to follow him, and next second they were walking along the Hogwarts corridors again, on a cool winter night. Tom did not ask why they were following Voldemort, whose long black cloak was wrinkled with snow. They reached the door to Dumbledore's office. Voldemort knocked. The door opened. He went inside.

Dumbledore and Tom stood in the corner of the office, watching as the younger Dumbledore poured wine into a goblet which he offered to Voldemort. They sat down and exchanged a few words as they drank. Then, Dumbledore set his goblet aside and leaned forwards.

"You call it 'greatness', what you have been doing, do you?" he said, delicately.

"Certainly," said Voldemort, casually, and his eyes seemed to burn as he said it. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed—"

"Of _some_ kinds of magic," the younger Dumbledore corrected him quietly.

Tom crossed his arms again and again, he felt Dumbledore watching him.

"Did you know?" he said, quietly.

"No," said Dumbledore, surprising him a bit. "Not yet, at least." He turned on his heel to walk away, then paused and looked back at Tom. "But I had my suspicions."

Together, they departed from the old office and walked along the castle corridors in silence. They reached the seventh floor and watched Voldemort pace in front of a wall. The wall then materialised into a door. He looked over his shoulder a few time and then let himself in, with Dumbledore and Tom following him. They watched as Voldemort paced around the large room, so littered with random objects. After a while, he found a spot and gently placed the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw into a little treasure box.

"That's two," said Dumbledore.

"I never imagined that someone would find it here," said Tom, truthfully. "I thought…"

"You thought you were the only one to ever have found the infamous Room of Requirement?" said Dumbledore. Throat too tight to speak, Tom nodded. "I admit, I never had the pleasure to find it myself. But I knew about it all along."

"So the boy took it then?" said Tom.

Dumbledore smiled and turned to look as the Room of Requirement door slid open again and Harry Potter entered, fully-grown, dirty from the battle, but eager and determined. The two watched as he paced around the room, looking frantically at every little corner, every table, every object in sight. He paused suddenly, and closed his eyes. Tom watched as the boy listened intently. Then, he opened his eyes and glared at the partially covered treasure box on the table. He slowly walked up to it and moved the cloak aside. He picked up the treasure box, opened it, and a smile flashed across his face as his considered the object inside.

"Right," said Tom. "I don't need to see the rest of this."

* * *

Tom was slowly walking along the darkened streets of Knockturn Alley. There was no one else in sight and it looked like it was going to rain again. He looked around nervously.

"P-professor?" he said, his voice slightly trembling.

"Yes?" said Dumbledore, appearing right before his eyes again, causing him to jump back in fright.

"STOP DOING THAT!" he hissed.

Dumbledore smiled.

They suddenly heard a terrible shriek. Tom wheeled around, his eyes fully alert.

"What was that?!"

"Let's go find out," said Dumbledore, simply.

He led the way out of Knockturn Alley. The shrieks grew louder now as they descended through the streets, finally reaching Diagon Alley. Tom stopped short and watched as his Death Eaters battled the villagers. There was blood everywhere—people screaming and shouting and begging for mercy. The Death Eaters were chasing them and laughing at their shrivel attempts to save their skins. This time, Dumbledore crossed _his _arms.

"Is there anything you would like to say, Tom?"

Tom did not answer right away. He watched Snape's younger version run along Barty Crouch Junior as they chased an elderly witch into a shop. There were a few flashes of green and red light. Then, the two departed from the shop, looking rather pleased with themselves.

"Those two were always my favourites," said Tom, finally answering Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head and turned away from the street.

It instantly materialised into Crystal Cave and the pair moved into the dark depths of it, the water wetting the hem of Dumbledore's cloak. Tom walked alongside him, in his schoolboy clothes, jumping over the rocks. They quickly found the corner where the bowl that Voldemort had enchanted lay. They stopped right in front of it. Tom peered inside. The locket was there alright, drowning in the silvery blue potion. Tom looked up at Dumbledore questioningly, but Dumbledore shook his head. And so they waited.

Soon, a man appeared, hauling something long and heavy—it looked like an ax. His wand was sticking out of the pocket of his robes and it took Tom a moment to realise that the man had not come alone. Standing behind him was a very small creature. It looked to be about the ugliest thing Tom had ever seen. The two were walking in the shadows, so Tom couldn't make out who they were. But he knew. Oh yes, he definitely knew. He watched young Regulus make his way over to the crystal bowl. He handed his wand to Kreacher the elf, then swung the ax and hit the bowl hard. It fell with a loud clash that echoed loudly throughout the cave.

At this point, Dumbledore got tired of standing and took a seat on one of the wet rocks nearby. He continued to watch the scene, fully alert. Tom was also interested to see how Regulus had managed it. How did he manage to destroy the locket? But what he saw pleased him very much. Regulus took a hold of the locket and hit it as hard as he could with the ax, but nothing happened. Puzzled, he took the wand from Kreacher and hit the locket with the most powerful spell he could think of. Still, nothing happened. He tried a couple of more spells—tried burning it too—but no matter how hard he tried, he could not do it. The locket was as good as new.

"That right there is the power of my kind of magic," said Tom, proudly.

Dumbledore did not reply.

The locket suddenly slipped from Regulus' fingers and onto the floor, for he'd heard a chilling sound—a horrifying sound—that had sent a wave of panic through him. Next moment, the inferi were rising from the waters and headed straight for him. They hissed and whispered as they slowly ascended, feeling hungry for flesh and blood. Regulus shouted "Expelliarmus!" and "Rictosempra!" but only a couple of the inferi were affected by these weak spells. Regulus turned back to the entrance to the cave but it was blocked now by a swarm of inferi headed straight for him. Losing hope, he grabbed the locket and turned to Kreacher. He pulled a locket just like it from out of his pocket and threw that at the elf.

"HERE!" he yelled. "TAKE IT! FIX THE BOWL AND PUT THIS REPLICA IN THERE!"

"But master!" croaked the elf, but Regulus was already being pulled down the rocks.

Skeletal hands found their way around his legs, arms, and neck and were pulling him with incredible force. His wand dropped from his grip and rolled down the rocks. Panicked, the elf grabbed his master's wand and fixed the bowl instantly. He placed the fake locket inside and refilled it with the silvery blue potion from before. When he turned back, his master was already halfway into the water.

"DO WHATEVER YOU CAN TO DESTROY IT!" cried Regulus, dropping the real locket which fell on the rocks in front of him. "PROMISE ME, KREACHER! PROMISE ME YOU WILL TAKE IT HOME AND YOU WILL DESTROY IT!"

"K-Kreacher p-p-promises, master!" said the elf, in a frightened voice, and he ran forwards and took the locket. He then reached for Regulus' hand, trying desperately to pull him from the inferi's grip.

"GO! GET OUT!" shouted Regulus, and with that, he was thrown into the water.

Tom and Dumbledore watched as he struggled for a few seconds and then went under completely and did not rise again. Frightened, the house elf began muttering to himself as he picked up Regulus' wand, threw it into the water, bowed for his late master, held the locket closely to him and made a run for it, leaving Tom and Dumbledore alone in the darkness of the cave. It was quiet for a long time before Tom spoke again. He was very surprised with what he had seen and he turned to Dumbledore.

"Did he do it?" he said, in as low a voice as his 11-year-old self could muster.

"No," said Dumbledore.

"But—"

"Just watch."

So Tom waited. It seemed that hours had passed by them. Time was a very strange thing in this new dimension that he was in. Finally, two figures entered the cave, one taller than the other, though both grown. Their wands were lit up and they were slowly making their way towards the bowl that Kreacher had repaired years before. Tom gasped. It was Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Dumbledore was muttering something to the boy that Tom could not hear. Even after Tom jumped from the rock and walked right up to the pair of them, he still could not hear it. It was strangely muffled. Furious, he turned to face his version of Dumbledore.

"Why can't I hear it?" he said, through gritted teeth.

"Oh, it's not important," said Dumbledore, smiling sweetly. "All you need to know is that I drank the potion, got the fake locket, and was murdered by Severus Snape later that very same night."

"Good riddance," muttered Tom.

Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"The boy has been travelling for the last year, looking for the real locket. He found it eventually and eventually, he learned how to destroy it."

Dumbledore then rose from the rocks and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" demanded Tom, also jumping to his feet.

"There is nothing left for us here," said Dumbledore. "That's three. Let's go have a look at the others?"

"Just tell me what happened!" yelled Tom, suddenly. Dumbledore paused to look at him. "I don't want to see! I just want to know!"

"What do you want to know?" said Dumbledore, finally.

"What happened to Morfin's ring?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Was it not Marvolo's?"

"WHAT HAPPENED TO IT?" yelled Tom.

"I took it," said Dumbledore. "It took me a long time to track it down, I'll admit, but it was I who took it and it was I who destroyed it…long before the boy even knew your secret."

"How did he find out?" breathed Tom. "How did _you_ find out?"

"I think I've always known, to be perfectly honest with you," said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. "But the boy was only clued in on it a few years ago—in his sixth year at Hogwarts."

Tom glared up at the old man. Smiling stupidly, he turned and walked out of the cave. When Tom finally followed him out, it took a moment for him to realise that he'd walked into the Ministry of Magic. It was rather empty, as opposed to the swarm of wizards that passed there daily. Dumbledore was standing at the end of the hall, admiring the fountain. Tom walked right up to him and stood on his side, also watching the fountain.

"And the cup?" he said. "How did the boy find out about the cup?"

"He didn't," said Dumbledore, cleverly. "He only figured that something was hidden in dear old Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. And when he finally got there, he found it instantly."

"_How?_" said Tom, who was growing furious again.

Dumbledore smiled brightly at him.

"It's a nice day out. Why don't we go for a walk in the sun?"

Without waiting for Tom's answer, he started back down the hall. Bewildered and slightly panicked, Tom followed. In no time, they were outside, strolling along the sunny streets of London. Again, they were the only ones. Everyone else was off somewhere.

"You do realise you haven't won, don't you, Dumbledore?" said Tom, finally. Dumbledore looked down at him curiously. "I still have more secrets—secrets that you don't know about."

"You have _one_ secret," Dumbledore corrected, "And she answers to the name 'Nagini'. Yes, I know about her, Tom. And now, so does Harry."

Tom tried to swallow but it was impossible. It was as though the air had been forcefully sucked out of him, stripping all sense of feeling from him completely. He stood rooted to the spot, trying to comprehend these words. Alright, so the boy knew about Nagini. But so what?

"The boy is dead," said Tom, his voice slightly shaking.

Dumbledore turned to look at him.

"He's dead," said Tom, again. "I killed him. I hit him with the killing curse. He fell to the ground, unmoving. I killed him, Dumbledore. It's over!"

"I've always found that help would be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

"W-what?"

"Or rather, those who_ deserve_ it," said Dumbledore.

"I don't understand," said Tom.

"When will you ever learn, Tom?" sighed Dumbledore. "Did it not cross your mind that, perhaps, the boy must have told someone else? Do you really think that your secret died with him?"

Tom's mouth dropped open, and noticing this, Dumbledore's smile widened.

"Come," he said. "Mrs. Cole is waiting for us."

Feeling perplexed beyond comprehension, Tom allowed Dumbledore to guide him back into the orphanage. They made their way up the stairs and into the large dining room. Seated at that table were the last people Tom wanted to see: Avery, Lestrange, Nott, Rosier, Davis, Selwynn, and Rowle. The seven boys, all of them 11-years-old (like him), were eating some mince pies with Mrs. Cole. Dumbledore smiled at them all and took a seat at the end of the table.

"Come join us, Tom," he said, as he began to cut his own pie.

Tom felt his feet force themselves to walk and found a seat right next to Dumbledore. He stared at the others, who pretended like they'd not seen him. Mrs. Cole was looking drunk as usual. This was worse than all the dreams Tom had had combined. A million times worse.

"So you showed me what happened," said Tom, looking at Dumbledore. "You showed me everything you wanted. What happens now?"

"Well," said Dumbledore, chewing for a moment. "You have a choice."

"A choice?"

"Yes, I think you do." He paused. "You can choose life or death."

"That's easy," said Tom. "Life."

"It's not that simple," said Dumbledore, smiling again. "If you choose life, it won't be easy. But if you choose death, you need never go back and deal with a sea of angry Death Eaters."

"_I _am the only one who is allowed to be angry here, _professor_," said Tom. "They have no business getting angry and they would not dare to!"

He pointed his finger at the other boys but they ignored him and continued to eat, as though he was not there and they could not hear him.

"So it is life that you choose then?" said Dumbledore, after a while. "That is your final answer?"

"Of course," said Tom.

"You never learn, do you?" said Dumbledore, sadly. "There are things far worse than death. I have always tried to teach you that."

"_There is nothing worse than death_," breathed Tom. "_Nothing_. I would rather go back to my rudimentary form and years of exile than end up just like you."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Dumbledore sighed again, putting down his knife and fork.

"Very well, Tom. I tried—I really did. But once you set your mind to something, there is no trying to convince you otherwise…just ask Severus."

Tom scowled at him but said nothing.

The clock on the wall began to chime. Dumbledore looked up at it thoughtfully, and then frowned.

"It is time for you to go back," he told Tom. "This is where we part ways."

"Forever," Tom added, "For I will remain in the living world and you will always be in the world of the dead."

"As you wish," said Dumbledore, bowing his head to him.

Tom grew even more furious now, but was momentarily distracted by a tingling sensation in his toes. It slowly moved up his legs and into his stomach. His fingers also began to tingle and then the sensation moved up his arms and into his neck too. He felt incredibly strong and powerful—so full of energy and determination. He looked up at Dumbledore who, for a split second, met his eyes. And then—

"Wake up! My lord, please wake up! Please!"

Tom glanced around the table again and then back at Dumbledore.

"I'm not here," he told him. "I'm not really here."

"Yes, you are, my lord! Of course you are here! You are here with me and I am here with you! _Please_, wake up! Open your eyes for me! _Please!_"

"Goodbye, Dumbledore," Tom whispered. Just before the room dissolved before his eyes however, Mrs. Cole's head snapped up and she met his eyes, as though he had only just walked into the room. There was something very peculiar about the look she gave him—almost knowing.

Tom opened his eyes. The dark green blurriness quickly materialised into trees, and the feeling of the cool wind was very evident on his skin now. The image of Dumbledore and the others at the orphanage was still so clear in his mind, though now he knew exactly where he was and how old he was. His red eyes shifted around until he finally found Bellatrix sitting right next to him, one hand on his heart and another on his cheek, tears sparkling in her eyes.

* * *

**As you well know by now that the next chapter is going to be the last one for this story, I thought I'd post about what I'm working on next. **

**There are two other stories on my page that I think you guys should check out. One is about Draco time-travelling to the Marauder Era during their sixth year. It is a story I am co-writing with DaOneInDaCorner. Do check it out. It's called "Hogwarts: Marauding the Timeline".**

**The other story is my first attempt at writing in the Alternate Universe. It's a story where James and Lily live, thus Harry grows up rich and famous and spoiled like there's no tomorrow. Unfortunately, this means that Draco grows up in the opposite circumstances. The story is written in their joint perspectives and it definitely puts a twist on canon. It's called "An Unkindness of Wizards". Let me know what you guys think of both! I personally think they're much better than this story was. **


	50. The Final Duel

**This chapter was finished long ago but I just kept delaying to update it because I didn't want it to end. Sigh. This chapter was written in a combination of the book, the film, the film script, and my own imagination of course. But before you read it, a little intro: **

**Tom Marvolo Riddle was not just a dictator, intent on wiping out the mudblood population. It was not a matter of wake up and kill a bunch of Wizarding families. He had some serious psychological issues and is probably the most complicated character in Harry Potter. **

**I want to take a moment to mention a few characters that my heart goes out too. Poor Billy and his rabbit, lovable Hagrid, the tortured Hogwarts students Jonathan Buckley and Anna and Emily...also, a moment for the main Death Eater group. They were just a group of Hogwarts boys who wanted to play Exploding Snap when Tom turned them into monsters. If you haven't already guessed, Avery was my favourite. **

**It's been great fun writing this story for the last 4 months. It really helped me to get to know Voldemort more as a character and I hope I have done justice and truly exposed the Dark Lord. I've already begun my next project. It's called _An Unkindness of Wizards_ and it's about an alternate Harry Potter universe, if anyone's interested. **

**Lastly, thank you so much to all of you who read and reviewed and followed and favourited. I hope this story continues to be read as there is so much more to Tommy boy than meets the eye. **

**And now...**

**the long-awaited finale to a story I'll never forget. **

**Enjoy: **

* * *

**CHAPTER 50: THE FINAL DUEL**

He stared around the woods for a good couple of minutes, not knowing what had come over him. And then, it all came back to him. The battle. The fire and the rubble. The screams. Severus' death. The boy in the forest. And the entire conversation with Dumbledore, which still seemed to be echoing in his ears.

Bellatrix continued to watch him, tears dancing their way down her cheeks. Tom slowly sat up and she tried to help him to his feet, but he pushed her away, indicating that she let him be. She did not listen. He lifted himself off of the ground and tried to stand up, but Bellatrix still had her arms around him, longingly, and continued to whisper, "Are you alright?"

"I don't need your help!" he hissed at her, pushing her away harder this time.

She whimpered and fell backwards, flinching as Tom passed by her.

He froze at the sight of the boy's limp body a few yards away from him. Tom stared at it. He was dead. _Dead_. Harry Potter was dead!

_"I've always found that help would be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."_

It was Tom's turn to flinch as the echo of Dumbledore's old voice left his ears. He turned angrily to Narcissa Malfoy.

"You!" he yelled. "Check him!"

She bowed low and nervously made her way over to the other side of the clearing, her feet trembling beneath her. Tom could even hear the rapid beat of her heart as she passed by him. She knelt down beside the boy and lowered her head to his heart, listening, her eyes wide.

It seemed like years had passed before Narcissa finally got to her feet and slowly turned around to face the procession of Death Eaters, standing behind Tom, eagerly awaiting her report. She looked around at all the faces and her eyes briefly landed on her husband before turning back to Tom. He knew the answer before she'd even uttered it, yet there was something incredibly satisfying in hearing it being said out loud.

"Dead."

He'd done it. He'd finally done it. This was it. _This was it!_ The moment he had been waiting for for the last 17 years had finally arrived. The moment he'd been waiting for his whole life, actually!

He turned around to face his bruised, bleeding, and tired-looking Death Eaters. They were watching him with awe, admiration, reverence, wonder, hope, satisfaction and amazement. A strange feeling of pity filled in the pit of his stomach. Tom smiled.

"It's over now," he told his Death Eaters. "There will be no need for you to fight anymore today. They will give in on their own."

The Death Eaters seemed to let out a deep breath at the same time. Tom's smile grew wider.

"Come with me," he ordered. "Hagrid, you shall carry the boy. Death Eaters, follow me. Let us go and grasp our future together."

And, feeling pleased with himself, Tom led them out of the forest.

The way back was much shorter than the way in had been, perhaps because all of the Death Eaters had now received a fresh wave of energy, as did Tom. He was happy beyond recognition. He had never felt truly pleased with his powers before. And now that he'd finally proved himself in front of his followers, he knew that they would never dare to question him or abandon him ever again. It was done.

They reached the school courtyard just as the sky was slowly beginning to brighten. Rubble upon rubble everywhere, the limp bodies of various students lay scattered about. Giants' feet were here and there, as were snapped wands and blood. Lots and lots of blood. It was not a pretty sight, Tom had to admit. It would certainly take a lot of cleaning up to make the castle presentable again.

As the Death Eaters proceeded to walk, they found that the others had realised their presence and were coming out to greet them. Tom stopped on one side of the courtyard and waited, his face gleaming with happiness he could no longer control. The remaining staff, students, and parents slowly made their way out of the castle and stopped on the other side of the courtyard, watching Tom indignantly. They too, looked worn out and tired…too tired to carry on is just how Tom liked them to be.

Nagini hissed at his feet as Tom waited, watching the students slowly coming forward.

"Who is that that Hagrid's carrying?" said a redheaded girl at the very front. "Neville, who is it?"

Tom smiled even more now. He raised his arms and shouted, _"Harry Potter is dead!"_

The girl let out a piercing shriek and flung herself forwards, only to be stopped by a ginger man (presumably her father), who jerked her backwards and held her firmly as she wept.

"Stupid girl," laughed Tom. "You cry for _that_?" he pointed at the limp body in Hagrid's giant hands and sneered again. "These last few hours, as you all collected the dead and tended your wounded, was _he_ by your side?" No one else spoke a word. They waited. What for, who knows? There was nothing left to do but wait. "While your hands ran dark with the blood of mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters…_his_ were clasped in prayer, but it was a prayer for one and for one only." The Death Eaters gathered behind Tom, all of them looking very pleased with themselves. Tom smirked and turned back to the crowd of students. "While you all battled—courageously, I might add—until you could no longer will yourself to stand, _he _had long since fallen to his knees. While you cursed me until your voices grew ragged, _he_ begged for mercy in a voice as meek as a child's." Tom tried very hard to suppress a laugh. It was the happiest moment of his life and he was going to savour it for as long as possible. If only he could make time stand still. If only he could reach out with his long-fingered hand and physically grasp this moment and hold on to it forever.

"Do not cry for _that_," he repeated. "He is not worthy of your tears. And do not despair of his betrayal. You were never in his heart…not for one single solitary beat."

But the redheaded girl's sobs grew louder now and her father tried to pull her away from the crowd with full force.

"Did you not hear me?!" Tom shouted after her. "HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!"

The Death Eaters behind him guffawed with laughter at this announcement.

"From this day forward," Tom continued, now addressing the entire crowd. "You'll put your faith in _me_." He paused to take in the crowd standing before him, injured and exhausted. "The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist—man, woman, or child—will be slaughtered..." The Death Eaters murmured their agreement at these words,"…as will every member of their family."

Tom took a few steps forward and smiled again.

"Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters…they will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build…together."

The silence was abysmal now. Time itself seemed to be standing still, waiting. Tom turned back to his Death Eaters and walked a few steps towards them, his smile very clear now.

"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!" he exclaimed.

Again, they burst into more laughter…laughter for the victory that they had sought for so long. Tom turned back to the other crowd.

"And now is the time to declare yourself!" he shouted, happily. "Come forth and join us! OR DIE."

No one moved. No one made a sound. The courtyard was as still as ever, and the sky was slowly getting even brighter.

"What, no one?" said Tom, feigning a little hurt in his voice.

Behind him, Bellatrix detached herself from the procession of Death Eaters and hopped up on a rock happily, gleaming at the students expectedly.

"Draco," said Lucius suddenly, in a very hoarse voice. Tom turned to look at him and then followed his gaze to where Draco stood, amidst the crowd of injured students. "D-Draco!"

The boy did not move a muscle but rather continued to stare at his father.

"Draco," said Narcissa, calmly. "Come."

Tom waited. He did not necessarily like Draco. In fact, he'd like Regulus a whole lot better. But Draco was, after all, just another young boy…his problem was that he hadn't suffered enough of the corruption just yet.

Draco slowly moved away from the crowd and walked forwards. Tom smiled.

"Ah, well done, Draco," he said, holding out his arms. Draco stopped before him. Tom embraced him, smiling over his shoulder at the crowd of betrayed-looking students. "Who will be next? Hm?"

He let go of Draco and watched the crowd as Draco moved away from him to join his parents, both of whom hugged him now.

"Come now, don't be shy," said Tom, aloud.

Again, no one moved a muscle or uttered a single word. Tom's patience was outgrowing him. He sneered.

"No takers?"

Suddenly, a tall boy in the front—blackened with soot and Sorting Hat in hand—limped his way across the courtyard and halted a little ways in front of Tom, who regarded him with amusement. He eyed him from top to bottom.

"Well, I must say, I'd hoped for better," Tom told his Death Eaters. They bawled with laughter, Bellatrix the loudest and happiest among them. Tom approached the boy. "Is _this_ truly the best Hogwarts has to offer?"

The Death Eaters laughed again and Bellatrix grinned in cruel amusement.

"And who might you be, young man?" Tom asked the boy.

"N-Neville Longbottom," the boy said, quickly.

The Death Eaters exploded with laughter once again. Bellatrix clapped her hands happily.

"Well," said Tom, smiling. The boy's parents would be oh so proud. "Welcome, Neville. I'm sure we can find a place for you in our ranks."

"Yes," said Bellatrix, loudly. "_Someone_ has to do the washing!"

The Death Eaters roared with laughter, some of them relaxing a bit and putting their arms around each other or holding hands.

"Now, now, Bella," said Tom, amusingly. "Let us not underestimate our young friend over here. By stepping forward, he lives to see another day." Tom's eyes fell upon the Sorting Hat in Neville's hand. He sneered and then turned back to the crowd. "There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

"I'd like to say something."

Tom's brows furrowed vaguely. He studied Neville curiously. What a young, naïve, innocent-minded lad.

"Very well, Neville. I'm sure we'd all be fascinated to hear what you have to say."

Nagini was probably feeling hungry again, thought Tom, as he continued to watch Neville with curiosity.

"It doesn't matter that Harry's gone," began Neville, turning to look at his peers now. "People die every day. Friends. Family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he's still with us in our hearts. And so is Fred and Remus and Tonks…all of them." He paused. "They didn't die in vain." He turned to Bellatrix. "But you will!" He turned to Avery, Nott, and Rowle at the front. "And you and you and you will!" His eyes then landed on Tom, who was smiling again. "And so will you! Because….because you're wrong. Harry's heart did beat for us. For all of us!"

Tom pointed his wand at Neville, who suddenly grew rigid and still. He then forced the hat onto Neville's head so that it slipped below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Tom, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Behind him, the Death Eaters cackled with laughter while the Hogwarts fighters gasped and yelled. Laughing himself, Tom flicked his wand again and bound Neville completely. Bellatrix was now howling with laughter and positively skipping around the courtyard like a little girl. It was very amusing to watch.

A second later, something else happened. There were distant shouts and yells that grew closer as they drew nearer. In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off of him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering rubied handle. The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, it seemed to draw every eye.

"THIS ISN'T OVER!" he shouted, pointing the sword at Tom.

Tom raised the Elder Wand to attack, but in that exact instant, there was a panicked yell.

"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY—WHERE'S HARRY?!"

Tom thought he was going mad. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the figure that Hagrid had been holding only moments ago, running away. It stopped behind a wall, pointed its wand, and yelled "CONFRINGO!"

Tom followed the spell to where it missed Nagini by inches. The boy met Tom's eyes then, and for a moment—only a moment—time stood still. And then, he darted for the castle.

Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was feeling the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where. Tom saw large winged creatures soaring the heads of his giants, thestrals and hippogriffs scratching at their eyes while the giants punched and pummeled them. And now, the defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike were being forced back into the castle. Instinctively, Tom fired as many curses and jinxes as he could out of his wand, but each one hit a rock or a pillar, sending rubble flying everywhere. Things were happening fast now. The students ran back into the castle, cheering in their anticipated victory. The Death Eaters however, began to disapparate from the scene. Bellatrix was furious.

"COME BACK!" she shouted after them from her little rock. "COME BACK AND FIGHT!" But no one heard her. Tom was not even half-listening to her anymore. His mind was on one thing and one thing only: Harry Potter.

He waved the Elder Wand in front of him, sending colourful jets flying directly at the Longbottom boy, who flew backwards, along with his pathetic little sword. Tom shouted, grabbed Nagini, and swooshed out of sight.

He appeared in the Entrance Hall a second later. It exploded with counter-fire as members of the Order of the Phoenix, students, and staff returned fire. Tom flicked his wand, the air prickling with disturbance as he summoned a shield of air, insulating himself from attack. He swept forward and responded with a devastating series of spells, causing the Entrance Hall to quake. Next second, he was dueling four wizards at once, while his remaining Death Eaters shouted and attacked the others. Everywhere he looked, people seemed to be falling to their deaths—Hogwarts fighters _and_ Death Eaters. This was not good.

Bellatrix hopped out of nowhere and joined in on Tom's duel, shouting curses at the Hogwarts fighters. Tom turned round, his eyes skimming for Nagini. If the boy was alive, he knew about the snake. And she would be his primary target now. But Tom could not find her. And then…

"AAAAAAAH!"

He turned just in time to see Bellatrix freeze mid-duel, her eyes very round. She then fell to her knees and landed on the ground, unmoving.

"NO!" Tom shouted, beckoning towards her. He cast a powerful charm around them that blasted the nearby lookers a few feet backwards. He fell to his knees and held Bellatrix. Yes. She was dead, alright. Dead as a doornail.

The crowd was suddenly afraid. Silence fell abruptly and completely as Tom raised his head and spotted Harry Potter standing a few feet away from him, watching him carefully. He too, rose to his feet, letting Bellatrix fall at his feet. For a moment, nothing happened. And then, he and the boy began to circle each other.

"I don't want anyone else to help," said the boy loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

Tom hissed.

"Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wid. "This isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," said the boy. "It will just be you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good…"

Tom stroked the Elder Wand carefully in his hand as he continued to slowly circle the boy.

"It has all been accident," he told the boy. "That night at Godric's Hollow…the night at the graveyard…the night at the Department of Mysteries. You keep getting away by accident!"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" said the boy. They were still moving sideways, both of them in that perfect circle maintaining the same distance from each other. And for Tom, no face existed but the boy's. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"ACCIDENTS!" Tom screamed, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if petrified. And of the hundreds in the hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women and permitted me to kill them _for you_!"

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said the boy as they circled and stared into each other's eyes, red into green. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people."

"BUT YOU DID NOT!"

"I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"

Tom glared at him.

"You dare—?"

"Yes, I dare," said the boy, loudly and clearly. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

Tom suddenly let out a small smile.

"Is it _love_ again?" he said, his snakelike face jeering. "Dumbledore's favourite solution—love—which he by the way claimed conquered death. Though, love did not stop him from falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork!" Tom laughed now. "Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter—and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

The boy said nothing as he still circled Tom. Aha, thought Tom. _Now_ he'd caught the boy by surprise.

"If it is not love that will save you this time," he continued, "You must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both," said the boy.

Shock flit across Tom's ghostly face, though it was instantly dispelled. He began to laugh, and the sound echoed through the still hall.

"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said, "Than I, Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it," said the boy. "But he knew more than you…knew enough not to do what you've done."

"YOU MEAN HE WAS WEAK!" Tom screamed, biting back tears of laughter. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his…what will be _mine_!"

"He was the bravest man I'd ever known, who sacrificed his own life," the boy declared.

Tom was taken aback. Where was all this coming from? Where was the weak little boy from the Department of Mysteries? Where was the useless, defenseless prat from the graveyard? Where was the no-good child from Godric's Hollow?

"_I _brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!" Tom yelled.

"You thought you did," said the boy, "But you were wrong."

For the first time, the watching crowd stirred, as hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.

"DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD!" Tom declared, refusing to give them all hope otherwise. "I CAUSED HIS DEATH!"

"Oh, you're so naïve!" laughed the boy, still circling with Tom. "Do you really think that Dumbledore ended up on that tower that night accidentally? That he was caught by surprise when your Death Eaters showed up? Do you really think that it was all a shock to him?"

"I have seen it, Potter, and he will NOT RETURN!" Tom hurled the words at the boy, anger fuming in his red eyes.

"Yes, Dumbledore is dead," said the boy, ever so calmly. "But you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

Tom scoffed.

"What childish dream is this?" he said, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from the boy's. He wanted to strike, he really did. But some powerful, unknown force was keeping him from doing it. Curiosity. He wanted to know everything that the boy knew. He was starving for this information that had been withheld from him for so long.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," declared the boy. "Snape was Dumbledore's…Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realised it, because of the things you can't understand." He paused. "You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

Tom did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart. And then, time froze again, and a distant memory found its way to the core of Tom's brain and danced before his eyes, making the hall and the boy vanish temporarily:

_"What is it, Severus?" said Tom, who finally realised that Severus was about to reveal to him what he had been hiding since the moment they first discussed the prophecy. Snape sighed and closed his eyes._

_"Lily Evans," he said._

_"Yes," said Tom, not sure where he was getting at._

_"Do not kill her, sir," said Snape. "Please, I beg you, do not kill her. Spare her life. Kill Potter and his kid but _please_ do not kill _her_."_

_Tom was lost for words. This had to have been his greatest surprise yet, and he was really starting to hate surprises. He eyed Snape carefully, wondering how long this had been going on. Snape met his eyes and looked incredibly vulnerable. _

_"How long have you been in love, Severus?" Tom asked._

_"The cruel wraths of love possessed me at an early age, I'm ashamed to say," said Snape. "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it to any of the others. I…I have been a victim of love for all my life, though I never wanted to be."_

_"I understand," said Tom, surprising him._

_"You do?" said Snape._

_"Yes, many fools fall down that path," sighed Tom. "Severus, I appreciate your honesty, I do. I am a merciful lord, as you well know by now."_

_"Of course," said Snape._

_"And," continued Tom, "I will consider sparing her life, just for you. I can promise you that much."_

_"Sir," said Snape, who was obviously not satisfied with this answer. "I can personally help you kill Potter and the child."_

_"No," said Tom, boldly. "It must be done by me only."_

_"Of course, sir," said Snape, "But sir, please do not touch her. Please, I beg of you."_

_"Severus—"_

_"I'll do anything!"_

_"You have already done so much!" said Tom. "As I've said, I will consider sparing her life. But, as fools often do, I imagine she will not stand aside and let me kill her husband and child. If the mudblood gives me any trouble, I will have no choice but to dispose of her. You understand of course, don't you, Severus?"_

_"Y-yes," said Snape, but it looked to be the hardest word he ever had to utter._

_"Good man," said Tom, and he patted him once on the back._

The broken hall materialised before Tom once again, and he was face-to-face with the boy.

"Snape's patronus was a doe," said the boy now, "the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life…from the time when they were children."

Tom's nostrils flared.

"You should have realised, Tom," said the boy. "He asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

"He desired her, that was all," Sneered Tom, "But when she was gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him—"

"Of course he told you that!" said the boy, laughing now. "But he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

"Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me!" Tom shouted. "He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy—I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it; I understood the truth before you ever caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand—the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny—is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

He uttered the last 7 words amidst laughter, ignoring the looks of shock on his Death Eater's faces as he'd finally revealed the whereabouts of Severus Snape.

"Yeah, it did," said the boy. "You're right." Tom sneered. "But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you think what you've done…think, and try for some remorse, Riddle…"

Tom bellowed with laughter now. He'd stopped circling the boy and felt tears streaming down his cheeks with the laughter.

"That wand still isn't working properly for you…" said the boy, ignoring him, "…because you murdered the wrong person." At this, Tom stopped laughing instantly. "Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed—"

"Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore _intended_ to die, undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

"What does it matter what happened?!" Tom shouted, furious now. "It's all in the past now. _I _am standing before you and _I_ possess the Elder Wand."

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you?" said the boy. "Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard…The Elder Wand recognised a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance…"

Tom's chest rose and fell rapidly, as the curse built up inside the wand pointed at the boy's face. He could feel the words right at the tip of his tongue, but still he stood frozen, taking in these words. And suddenly, something happened. It was as if he and the boy had come to a mutual agreement without the need for words to be spoken. The boy instantly dashed through the crowd and up the marble stairs, picking his way through the rubble and limp bodies strewn upon the steps. Tom snapped his attention away from the rest and flew after him.

The battle instantly resumed, picking up right where it left off. Shouts and screams filled the hall once again and curses flew here and there.

"Nagini, with me!" Tom hissed demandingly as he passed by her, snatching her up with him.

They followed the boy up the stairs, Tom's cloak swirling like water behind him, the great snake at his heel. He strode up the steps and fired a couple of spells at the boy, who dashed here and there, avoiding each one. How was it that he was still alive? How could this have happened? Tom made a mental note to slaughter Narcissa Malfoy to pieces once he was done with this one. Harry Potter was like a cockroach simply refusing to die.

Tom flicked his wand again. The boy flinched as shards of marble rained down upon him. Wheeling, he fired back. Tom parried his spells with incredible ease, too angry to care about anything other than seeing the boy's unmoving body for good. He mounted the steps and fired again and again. The boy blocked the spells hastily and stumbled back, firing wildly. One of his spells skittered down the steps and nearly hit Nagini. The snake hissed, unharmed but absolutely furious.

"LEAVE HER!" Tom shouted at the boy, throwing another string of spells in his direction.

His red eyes glittered with rage, as if he himself had been struck by the spell. Dumbledore had been right. The boy _did_ know about Nagini, and he was doing everything in his power now to destroy her. He fired again, purposely aiming for the snake this time. Tom countered his spells with palpable fury, his spells caroming madly up and down the staircase. Having had enough of this, Tom vanished with a black puff of smoke and emerged from the cloud on the boy's other side, materialising at the top of the stairs. He fired a ribbon of green at the boy, who retaliated with a red ribbon of his own. The two clashed into each other and set out sparks flying everywhere, hitting every corner, every wall, and every stair.

As Tom concentrated with every inch of his body on finishing the boy, he saw Nagini slowly making her way up the steps from behind the boy. She undulated upward, over the steps, and hissed in a sound oddly similar to that of Tom's many hisses. The ribboning flames grew more intense, beginning to lick the flesh of the Elder Wand. Tom glanced once more at Nagini, who drew closer to the boy, then stared fiercely at the boy himself, willing the flames down the ribbon of light towards him. The boy suddenly broke the spell, staggering away as the ribbon of light shot upward and the ceiling above gave way, raining debris onto Tom and Nagini.

"I SAID LEAVE HER!" Tom demanded, dodging the piles of rubble that flew upon him.

He emerged from the cloud of smoke, angrier than before. He vanished and reappeared behind the boy, sending a cluster of debris hurling at him. The boy dodged the rocks and fired a few spells back at him, all of which Tom successfully blocked.

It was the strongest fight Tom had ever put up. Again and again, he fired at the boy. He fired every spell he could think of—every curse and every jinx he had ever read about in all his years at Hogwarts. He fired several at once, and was amazed and stunned when the boy deflected them, causing some of them to backfire against Tom. And then, they paused. The boy was gasping for air and Tom was glaring at him. He then narrowed his eyes eerily—in a most unhuman way—and hissed again.

"_Now, my sweet,_" he told Nagini in Parseltongue.

She was only yards away from the boy now and she rose to strike him. The boy fired instinctively, then dashed for the balustrade and leapt into the air, falling and falling until he landed on the stone floor below. He glanced up to meet Tom's furious eyes. Instantly, Tom flicked his wand and the stone floor around the boy simply exploded, the surface dancing like water. When the puff of smoke finally vanished, Tom saw that so did the boy. He followed him through a door to a corridor which was teeming with smoke. In the distance, a patch of light drifted oddly in the swirling mist, glowing weakly and being swallowed by the smoke. Far off, screams—cries of battle—hung in the air, hollow and distant. _At least some of the Death Eaters were continuing to fight,_ thought Tom desperately, as he sought the boy. Even now, he still couldn't believe that many of them had abandoned the scene in attempt to save their own skins—abandoning him, yet again.

The walls shimmered like skin, barely discernible, melting and lost in shadow. Tom could hear a low beating rising in his ears, rapid at first and then growing slower and slower as it increased in volume and all ambient sound drifted away. He then realised it was the trumming of his own heart. He was sweating. _So we're back to that_, he thought. Not a problem.

He swept down to the lower landing and paused, eyeing the door ahead. He glanced up in the direction of Nagini, apparently conflicted.

"Nagini," he said to her, softly.

The boy appeared from the cloud of smoke and shot some more fires.

"NO!" Tom yelled, retaliating with his own string of spells, now fearing for Nagini's life. She was in very big danger, Tom could feel it strongly now. He leapt in front of her and shouted "DIE! DIEEE!" over and over and over again as he continued to attack the boy. But the boy was not giving in. He was putting up quite a fight, and Tom found the need to summon all the strength he possessed for just this one duel.

They moved into a darkened walkway now, with wooden stairs and railings everywhere. At one point, Tom swore he'd seen a small smile cross the boy's face. Furious above all else, Tom held his wand firmly and raised both of his arms. His long black cloak swirled madly as the hem unraveled and the cloth vipers slithered across the walkway and now up the boy's body. Before the boy could react, Tom flicked his wand and snapped the cloth tight around the boy's arms, legs, chest and neck. He reeled him towards him.

"_Why_ do you live?!" he demanded, in an almost begging sort of tone.

His face loomed close to the boy's, eyeing him like a curious specimen, always wondering the same thing: what was it about this boy that made him untouchable? How could this one, powerless and useless little fetus cause so much trouble?"

"BECAUSE, UNLIKE YOU, I HAVE SOMETHING WORTH LIVING FOR!" the boy answered, confidently.

Angry, Tom poised the Elder Wand over the boy's scar. The flesh there began to colour with blood, the lightning bolt turning white as ice. And then, the unspeakable happened. Tom's hand began to tremble as he held onto the wand firmly. He stared at it for a moment and then watched—in horror—as a crack appeared and slowly expanded along its length. For a moment, and only a moment, he simply stared at it, feeling completely and utterly betrayed. Then, quite suddenly, the boy wiggled his hand free and lashed out, striking Tom hard across the cheek.

Furious, Tom's eyes shifted, glaring at the boy, and he looked down. A drop of blood oozed down to his feet. He reached up and placed his fingers on his cheek: blood. The boy instantly stepped back.

"_Confringo!"_

The tendrils of the fabric of Tom's old cloak burst into flames. Tom fell back and, with his fractured wand, sliced the burning ribbons. As they turned to ash, the boy stumbled back and Tom picked him up and hurled him into a wall. He rose and fired again, then slapped the boy hard across the cheek.

The boy fell backwards and rose again. Tom fired again but the boy simply rose again. Furious, Tom stepped forward and pointed the Elder Wand only inches from the boy's forehead, seething. The boy glanced behind and then turned back to Tom.

"You were right," he said.

Tom's eyes glittered with fury as he kicked the boy hard again, sending him flying backwards. The boy sprang to his feet and gasped.

"When you told Professor Snape that wand was failing you," he clarified. "It will _always_ fail you."

Tom shouted as he punched the boy again—the wand was not enough anymore. He needed to feel himself physically attacking this thing that was simply refusing to die.

"What if the wand never belonged to Snape?" said Potter, speaking very quickly. "What if its allegiance was always to someone else?"

Tom stared at him, confused, not understanding a word of this. And suddenly, in that moment, he realised it was the boy—beaten and bloody—who seemed to be in control. The boy smiled, then pressed even closer, his voice quiet yet vaguely taunting.

"Come on, Tom, let's finish this the way we started it…"

He then grabbed Tom's cloak in both his hands and edged forwards.

"TOGETHER!"

And they fell. And fell. And fell. They continued to fall, plummeting, yet strangely twisting crazily. A sudden crack filled the sky and they together apparated into a plume, entwined, morphing monstrously in and out of one another, a single screaming beast one minute, adversaries the next. They hurtled downward, towards the courtyard below. Tom forgot all about the wand in his hand and used his fingers on the boy's face as they remained connected, flying upward and downward. He poked his fingers into the boy's eyes, pulled at his hair, and grabbed at his neck. He did everything he could possibly think of to tear the boy apart. And yet, as they burst apart upon meeting the ground and rolled onto their feet, facing one another across the courtyard, the boy looked whole and ready to duel. Tom sneered.

The others from the castle now stepped forwards, creating a large circle around Tom and the boy once again. Death Eaters and students and Order members watched as Tom and Harry Potter circled each other more slowly now. Chests heaving, they stared at one another, then Tom's eyes shifted slightly to the wand in his hand. The boy followed his gaze and watched the Elder Wand roll in between his fingers.

"I told you; it's useless to you," he said aloud.

Tom looked up at him and sneered.

"You know nothing!" he said. "Nothing!"

"Not true," said the boy. "I know more than you could ever hope to know. Want me to share some more of my secrets with you?"

"I have no care for your pathetic little secrets!" Tom shouted.

"Oh, but they are _your_ secrets too," said the boy, cleverly.

Tom froze. What on earth was the boy talking about?

"Oh fine!" he spat. "Indulge me."

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

Tom stared at him. It was impossible. It couldn't be. The wand simply could not have chosen a mere little teenager as its master. It couldn't be. And yet it was. Tom looked around the crowd but could not spot any of the Malfoys anywhere.

"But you're too late," said the boy now, as though reading his mind exactly. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him."

Tom remembered Bellatrix' reports on the boy's accidental escape from Malfoy Manor, and shook his head violently.

"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" said the boy. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was disarmed? Because if it does…."

Tom knew the words before they escaped the boy's mouth. His heart skipped a beat.

"…_I_ am the true master of the Elder Wand."

He refused to believe it. He absolutely refused to believe it. Raising the Elder Wand high into the air, he prepared to utter the long-awaited spell, only to be stopped just as quickly by a jarring pain in his heart. He froze, feeling Nagini's body thrash madly for a time before going still, somewhere in some corridor that was not in front of Tom now. The great snake's head tumbled end-over-end and then, as it came to a rest, Tom bellowed in pain. It was the loudest shriek he had ever produced and it echoed even louder now throughout the courtyard.

A red glow burst suddenly across the sky above as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the distant hills. The light hit both Tom's and the boy's faces at the same time, so that the boy's was suddenly a flaming blur.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading there in the courtyard, marked the point where the spells collided. Tom saw where the boy's red jet met his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the courtyard like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. Tom watched the boy catch it with his free hand as Tom fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward.

_"You are a wizard."_

_"It's magic, what I can do?"_

_"I don't need your help!"_

_"What about Slytherin?"_

_"What about him?"_

_"Give me a naaaame!"_

_"I have pushed the boundaries of magic, further perhaps than they have ever been pushed."_

_"Forgive me, my lord."_

_"There are far worse things than death, Tom."_

_"Love will not save you noooow!"_

Tom hit the stone ground with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. All thought, sense, and breath left his body quickly now, starting at the tips of his fingers and ending right in his chest. His head spun before him and then stopped.

Images of his Death Eaters swam before him…Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Rowle, Nott, Selwynn, and Davis. They were children again and they looked upon him, smiling compassionately. They waved to him and then turned around and walked away, into the light.

He had been hit by his own rebounding curse and was reduced to nothing but an empty shell, which would never be hollow again. All his dreams, all his life's efforts…everything he'd worked towards…everything he'd ever hoped for…gone. And he knew perfectly well, as the last bit of life left his body, that he would never have any of it ever again.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
